AN: Yeah, it's taken a long time. I was stuck, and really I am still stuck. But I think this chapter managed to write itself when I wasn't looking. I am still beta-less (no idea where she ran off to, really) so I apologise for any inconsistencies and/or typos.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I read them all and every single one warms my heart with joy and fuzzles.


Stand and Watch It Burn

XVII. All Thought of Right or Wrong

"Nothing too extravagant. You know he wouldn't like that."

"A cake, though. Molly said she would take care it."

"Yes, Mum did mention that. Oh, I hope it's nothing too ridiculous. You know how Mum gets carried away with things like that."

"How about appetizers? Who's doing that?"

"I am."

"Are you sure, Gin? On top of all the other things you're doing?"

"Well, she's bestowed upon me the glorious task of decorating."

"Oh dear Merlin, Ginny, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking Tonks would make our living room look very festive and colourful… and also that it'd be one less thing for me to do."

Hermione, Tonks, and Ginny were all sitting around Hermione's kitchen table. In front of Hermione were several pieces of parchment where she had been taking notes and jotting random things down. Tonks and Ginny watched Hermione's furious note-taking with amusement while making more suggestions for her.

July was coming to a close. Strange, really, that how little time had really passed since Hermione had discovered what had happened three years ago. It seemed like it had all happened a lifetime ago. And perhaps it had.

With Olivia's urging, Hermione had left the issue undisturbed for a while, but perhaps not with the same intentions as Olivia. It wasn't at all difficult for Hermione to not fret about it. Before, it had burdened her to withhold something from her husband and friends… because she thought about it. Hermione's solution was to not think about Draco Malfoy at all. Anytime he somehow entered her mind, she would determinedly focus on something else. Despite Olivia's warning about avoiding denial, Hermione was slipping very close to it. It was easier, she found. And her superficial hope was that, in time, she would forget such a silly thing had ever transpired.

Still, there was something inside of her that screamed out against it all. It screamed that it wasn't right, that she was living a lie and ignoring her true feelings and her heart, something she swore she'd never do. It screamed that she needed to see Malfoy and talk to him again.

Hermione quickly found that throwing herself back into the normal rhythms of her life suppressed those screams rather well. And though she could still hear the faint echoes of it at times, especially late at night, for the most part, she was blissfully free from them.

So here she was, with Tonks and Ginny, sitting at her kitchen table with several pieces of parchment full of notes in front of her, planning Harry's surprise birthday party. It gave her something to think about that wasn't Draco Malfoy's haunting, deep, grey eyes.

"Who else should we invite?" Hermione held up the guest list.

"Let me see that," Ginny said, snatching the parchment. She rolled her eyes. "Hermione, this list is pathetic."

"Who's on it?" Tonks took a peek. "Hermione. Really?"

"What?" Hermione asked weakly.

"It lists Harry Potter as the first and only guest. Are you serious, Hermione?" Ginny sniggered.

"That's why I was asking for your input!" Hermione crossed her arms. "Now, I know I'm planning this and all, but I can't be expected to do everything."

"May I remind you this was your idea?" Ginny asked.

Tonks sighed. "All right, children, enough bickering. Can we just get a start on who to invite?"

"Well the obvious ones not standing… Neville. Dean. Luna." Ginny pointed on her fingers as she listed each name. "Lavender, maybe?"

"Kingsley'd like to come, I'm sure," Tonks added.

Ginny nodded. "I think that pretty much sums it up."

Hermione frowned. "Such a short list."

"As if Harry would want a big party? I think he's going to kill us for even having this party. Imagine if we invited half the Ministry. Besides, with my family and all the kids, that's more than a party," Ginny added.

"All right," Hermione grumbled. She knew Ginny was right, but that didn't stop her from wanting to invite half the Ministry. She rolled up the parchment with the guest list on it. "I'll send out invites soon."

"Have you told Ron yet?"

"About this?" Hermione gestured at the notes.

Ginny nodded. "Have you?"

"Not yet."

"Good." Ginny laughed. "I love that brother of mine, but honestly? The later he finds out the better. You better keep this whole thing a secret from him."

Hermione stiffened at Ginny's words. "Of course," she said rigidly.

x x x

Knockknockknock.

"Come in."

Ron popped his head in. He was grinning. "Morning, Harry."

Harry smiled back. "Hey, Ron."

"Happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks."

"So," Ron said, plopping down into a chair, "what do you have planned for today?"

"I think Ginny wants me to go over to the Burrow after work. Dinner, or something."

"Ah, yes," Ron said, nodding sagely. He sighed dramatically. "I suppose the desires of one's fiancée supersedes that of his best friend." He leaned in. "Do you think we could sneak in a few birthday drinks though? Before you go?"

Harry grinned. "I think we can work something out after work."

"Brilliant," Ron said. "I'm supposed to head to the Burrow as well, so we can both Apparate there after we get some firewhiskey into our systems. I'll see you after work, then?"

Harry nodded. "I'll see you in a bit."

Shortly after Ron left, there was another knocking at his door.

"Yeah," Harry said, not looking up from the papers he was reading.

It was Kingsley. "Harry, we have some new info on Malfoy."

"Which one?"

Kingsley blinked. "Which one? Oh, right. Lucius – Lucius Malfoy."

"Well, what about Malfoy, then?" Harry put his elbows on his desk.

Kingsley slapped some papers onto Harry's desk. "He's been spotted. In Scotland. At least, we think it's him. We hope because otherwise, we have absolutely no idea where he could be, and that is not a very palatable option."

Harry put his head on his knuckles and rocked back and forth, thinking. "All right," he said, snapping up his head and clapping his hands. "Send some Aurors out to where we think he's been sighted to find out some more information and to try and find him. And we'll continue the search out here."

Kingsley nodded. "This worries me, Harry – Lucius Malfoy on the run. It's taken us three years to finally bring a sense of peace to the wizarding world… and it's too fragile. Three years isn't long enough for people to feel truly safe. If word gets out about Malfoy…"

"I know," Harry said, his mouth set in a grim line. "And I don't have a good feeling about this either, Kingsley."

"Don't say that, Potter. You'll jinx the damn thing."

Harry sighed. "It's true though." He shook his head. "Never mind that. Let's just worry about recapturing Malfoy."

"I'm on it."

"Oh, and Kingsley? Try to keep it quiet, will you? The less people know, the better."

Kingsley nodded. "I understand."

x x x

Later that evening, Ron and Harry both sat in a small pub near the Ministry, sharing drinks, laughs, and stories as they unwound after work.

"Ginny and those hare-brained ideas of hers," Ron chuckled after Harry shared a particularly humorous story about one of Ginny's more outrageous plans for their wedding. "Does she really think you'd go for that? Really?"

Harry grinned. "I reckon she thinks love is boundless."

"Even love has limits, mate!" Ron guffawed. "If I see you in that get up, I swear, I'll never let you live it down."

Harry's face became very serious. "What makes you think I'd actually consider it? I wasn't…"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "As if you could say no to Ginny?"

"I could!"

"All right then," Ron said indifferently. "You could."

"Well, what about Hermione?" Harry asked, turning the heat on his best friend. "I don't see you saying no to her too often."

Ron considered it for a moment. "All right, you've got me there. But," Ron continued, "as the years go by, you will learn the great art of the compromise – which is what Hermione and I do… a lot." Ron's eyes widened. "Juuuust about everything."

"Ahh, yes," Harry said sarcastically. "Advice from the seasoned married man."

"And don't you forget it," Ron grinned. He looked down at his half empty glass. "But speaking of Hermione… she hasn't quite been herself lately," Ron mused, swirling the firewhiskey around in his glass.

Harry gave his friend a curious look. "What do you mean by that?"

"I dunno, it's like she's… distracted or something. As if something's bothering her. Like she's hiding something from me. I ask her about it, and she says it's nothing."

Harry's blood ran cold. "D-D'you reckon you know what it's about?"

Ron shrugged. "I haven't the slightest clue." Ron checked his watch. "Oh, bloody hell, we were supposed to be back at the Burrow twenty minutes ago." He groaned. "Hermione and Ginny and my mum are going to give us hell. We better get going. Ohhh no you don't!" Ron warned as Harry started to put money on the table. "I know that old habit of yours. Today's your birthday. Drinks are on me today."

"All right," Harry grumbled, "but I'm paying next time."

The two walked to the Apparating point outside the pub and appeared a little outside the Burrow. Harry and Ron walked together up the path.

"Maybe you should talk to Hermione… about whatever she's distracted about," Harry suggested. He was feeling slightly uneasy.

"Maybe," Ron said. "I don't know, Harry. If it were something important, she would have told me. It's probably some small thing she just doesn't want me to worry about. I mean, what could she possibly be hiding from me?"

Strangely familiar words, Harry thought. Where had he heard them before? Oh, right… Ginny. "I suppose you're right," Harry said aloud.

"'Course I am," Ron said. He opened the door. It was pitch black. "'Lo, Mum! Hermione! We're here... Hello?"

There was no response.

Immediately, the two Aurors pulled out their wands. "Ginny?" Harry called out tentatively. A feeling of dread was starting to creep up his spine.

"It's dark as hell here… can't see a bloody thing," Ron said. "Lumos."

The lights all turned on, and seemingly out of nowhere, balloons, cake, food, decorations, and people appeared. "SURPRISE!!!!" they all screamed in unison.

"Bloody hell!" Harry yelled.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

Harry was white as a sheet. He turned on Ron. "Did you know about this?"

Ron's eyes were wide with shock. "No, not at all."

"Don't do that!" Harry shouted. "I thought you were all under bloody attack!"

Ignoring him, Ginny sauntered over and planted a huge kiss on Harry's cheek. "Happy birthday, Harry dearest."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled.

"Now, I know you don't like a huge fuss being made out of your birthday, but you've been working so hard lately, Hermione and I thought you deserved a little party and a celebration in your honour. Don't you go disagreeing," Ginny warned when Harry started to protest. "You're going to party with us and you're going to like it."

"I do," Harry said finally. "Like it, I mean." Swarms of smiling faces were looking at him expectantly – the Weasleys – all of them (he'd lost count of how many there were), Tonks and Lupin, Kingsley, Neville, Luna, Dean, Lavender… "Thanks everyone. This is amazing."

"Like the decorations, Harry?" Tonks asked, pointing a finger at them. Tonks, for some unknown reason, had decided to go with a tropical theme. Palm trees shot up from the ground – which was now covered in sand, and coconuts hung from the ceiling. Colourful parrots swooped overhead, squawking greetings like, "Harry birthday happy!"

"They're… great, Tonks," Harry said uncertainly.

Tonks grinned. "Knew you'd love 'em. Well, everyone, I think it's time to party!"

Everyone cheered, and each one split off. Luna was telling a bemused Neville about the dangers of the tropical Tranglewurm, usually hidden in the husks of ripened coconuts. Fred and George were dangling Aiden and Isabelle by their feet, tickling them. Tonks was blasting some music and dancing wildly with Bill and Charlie, much to Remus's dismay. Dean and Lavender were sitting on the couch, watching the parrots flying around. Mrs. Weasley was busy in the kitchen, presumably preparing more food, while everyone else was busy consuming it.

Harry smiled at Hermione and Ginny. "Thanks, you two. Though you know I don't really like big parties, especially ones for me."

"We know. That's why we planned one." Ginny winked roguishly at Harry who laughed in response. "But the whole thing was mainly Hermione's idea."

"I suppose I should thank you, then, Hermione?"

"Oh, but you helped a lot too, Ginny," Hermione said in mock protest. "You did most of the conspiring."

Ron looked slightly miffed. "How long have you guys been planning this?"

"About three weeks," Hermione replied. "Oh, Ron, I hope you're not upset I didn't tell you. I couldn't."

"Yeah, I told her not to," Ginny said, smiling evilly.

"Ginny!"

"What?" Ginny looked at her brother defiantly. "You're terrible at keeping secrets, Ron! If Hermione had told you, Harry surely would have found out, and we wouldn't have had the wonderful privilege of seeing his utterly and completely shocked face."

"All right, fine," Ron said, crossing his arms. Realisation dawned on his face. "So you've been hiding this from me? These last three weeks? That's why you've been acting so strangely?"

"Yes… why?"

Ron shot Harry a look. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering, is all." He grinned and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

x x x

Later that night, Hermione stood by the drinks table and watched the hubbub in front of her with pride. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the party had gone off without a hitch. Mostly. Ginny had almost forgotten to bring the mini quiches, and Fred had nearly destroyed some of the parrots, but all in all, everything went according to plan.

What Ron had said earlier bothered her. "That's why you've been acting so strangely?" She felt uncomfortable even thinking about that. He'd noticed, she thought. Fortunately, she'd been able to explain it away easily, but she wasn't so sure she could always be that lucky…

"Great party," a voice behind her said.

She jumped. "Wha… Oh, it's you, Remus!"

The man gave her a kind and gentle smile. "It's not at all like you to be jumpy, Hermione. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Just planning this party, I suppose. You know, the whole surprise element of it."

"Ah," Remus said, nodding. "You know, I never quite pictured you as the stay-at-home wife who plans parties, but I suppose I've been wrong about many things. I never exactly pictured myself as the marrying type, either." He cleared his throat. "Have you thought more about the teaching position at Hogwarts? I'm certain Minerva would love having you as the Transfiguration professor. You are her first choice."

Hermione flushed with pleasure. "Really?" she squeaked. She couldn't help herself.

"Of course," Remus said, smiling. "She has a back up in case you decline, but she has told me she really would love for you to take it."

"I've thought about it," Hermione said. "But I don't know… being away from home… from Aiden…"

"I understand." Remus looked over at Tonks who was now playing with Aiden. "I'm not sure if I could leave Dora behind, especially now that she's expecting..."

"It's all right though," Hermione said. "I'm sure you could work something out."

"I suppose," Remus said thoughtfully. "So what have you been up to lately, Hermione? I haven't talked to you in a very long time. How are things at home?"

"Dull," Hermione answered truthfully. "So dull. I miss working."

"Ah." Remus took a sip out of his glass. He smiled. "Then come to Hogwarts."

"I've mentioned it to Ron," Hermione said flatly. "He doesn't think it's a good idea for me to take any job, really. He says perhaps after a few years, after Aiden's a bit older would be a better time for me to go back to work… but I think he has in his mind that maybe I'll home school Aiden like Molly did for him."

"I see."

"Sometimes, I feel so trapped," Hermione admitted. She sighed. "Oh, listen to me ramble. A person would think I lived this terrible life, but I don't, my life is utterly perfect… and I'm just whining now…"

"No, no," Remus assured her. "It's quite all right, really. You're frustrated. It's perfectly within your bounds to feel so. Perhaps you should talk to Ron about it?"

"Maybe," Hermione said. "But sometimes, I just feel like… like he's listening but he doesn't understand."

"Communication is vital to any relationship. I learned that the hard way." Remus poured himself some more punch. "This punch is amazing, Hermione. Who made it?"

"Tonks."

"Really? I'm impressed."

Hermione smiled, but her smile soon faded. "I just don't know what to say to him, Remus. Truly."

"Be honest," Remus replied. "With him, with yourself… Be honest about how you're feeling and what you're thinking. I've found that disasters tend to arise when one isn't honest with themselves. That's how I was, for the longest time – convincing myself that I was sacrificing for the good of Dora when truly all I was doing was protecting myself." Remus rubbed his chin. "I was hurting her in the process. That's what happens. You lie to yourself, and you end up hurting you and the people you love."

Hermione sat, contemplating Remus's words. Be honest with herself? As simple as it sounded, Hermione knew she hadn't been doing that lately. Olivia had warned against it, but Hermione had openly embraced denial because it was easier. It allowed her to be safe. But now…

"Hermione?" Remus nudged her. "You all right there?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry, I sort of zoned off there."

"No problem. I think it's time for the cake," Remus whispered. "I think Mrs. Weasley wants you to help her with it."

Hermione headed to the kitchen. "I'm on it."

Somehow, she felt rejuvenated. Perhaps it was because now Hermione knew what she had to do. Tomorrow, she would go back to the one place where she could be honest, the one place that wasn't tainted with lies. Tomorrow, she'd return to the cabin.

x x x

Draco looked around him. He hadn't been here in three years. The thought of coming here had crossed his mind – several thousand times – but he was reluctant. There were too many memories here – too many memories he had tried to forget. But somehow, inexplicably, he had Apparated right in front of the cabin where he and Hermione had spent so many days together three years ago.

Lupin's cabin.

You can still turn back, he heard a voice in the back of his head saying. You shouldn't even be here. What are you, bloody insane? Are you trying to torture yourself?

Maybe, he thought back in defiance. Maybe I deserve this.

He pushed open the door.

The ruins of the cabin lay at his feet. Besides that, though, most of the things were where he remembered them, though a few details had changed. Or perhaps his memory had warped them, ever so slightly.

Draco's eyes landed on the empty bookshelves. He smiled slightly as he remembered the books that once sat on those shelves. He had been reluctant initially to even look at them, much to Hermione's annoyance.

- - -

He restlessly kicked the pillows off the sofa. "Granger, I'm bored."

She was in the kitchen, doing something. He had no idea what, but he had taken the liberty of assuming that it wasn't very important. Her shoulders seemed to tense slightly at the sound of his voice. "So?" Her voice sounded very tight.

"So," he replied nastily, "I don't want to be bored."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" she asked testily.

"Bloody hell, I don't know…"

"Then stop bothering me! I'm trying to get dinner ready, in case you haven't noticed." He scowled at her. She sighed. "Here." She walked over to the bookshelf, stood there for a while, and selected a small paperback. She tossed it over to him. "Read this."

He caught it. "What is this?" he asked, investigating the cover. "Crime and Punishment?"

"It's a Muggle book," she explained.

Almost instantly, he flung it back at her.

"Hey!" she yelled, barely catching it and saving it from hitting the floor. She cradled it in her hands like it was some sort of precious treasure. "Don't throw my books around like that!" She shot him an angry look.

"Then don't dirty my hands with trash like that! What are you trying to do – poison me?"

"I was trying to help you," she said through gritted teeth. She threw her hands up in the air. "Fine. I tried. You didn't like it. I tried. You can't blame me for not trying." Huffily, she stalked by him and back into the kitchen. He craned his head around to watch her go.

"Thanks for nothing, Granger," he shouted to her.

"Anytime, Malfoy."

- - -

Of course, about a month later, Draco had given in and taken a book off that shelf and opened it out of his own free will. Actually, he blamed Tonks. She had driven him absolutely batty, and she wouldn't leave him alone, so he had finally picked up a book in hope she'd stop talking. She did, but what he hadn't counted on was getting completely absorbed by the beauty of the writing and the poignancy of the story… a story that now resonated so deeply within him.

Draco walked through the room carefully, taking care to avoid some shattered glass on the floor. He entered the wrecked kitchen. He brushed his hand against the counter top and stared at the oven that Hermione had so often made good use of.

- - -

"What are you making now?" He peered over her shoulder with interest. She was mixing something looking rather doughy in a large glass bowl with her hands.

"Like my Muggle baking now, do you?" She smirked.

He glared at the back of her head. "You know, you really shouldn't do that. Seriously… acting like me? It's a little unnerving."

"I thought imitation was the highest form of flattery," she replied airily.

He ignored her. "What are you making?" he persisted.

"Scones. I thought we could have scones for tea today."

He moved in even closer. His face brushed against her hair. "Mm… Smells good."

She laughed. "They don't really have a smell, Draco. Other than the oh-so-delicious smell of uncooked dough, anyway."

"I wasn't talking about the scones." She spun her head around to give him a playful glare. He grinned. "You smell like cinnamon… utterly and completely delicious."

She smacked him on the head.

"Hey!" he howled. He rubbed the spot on his forehead where she had hit him. "Bad form! That was completely uncalled for!"

A smile was tugging at her lips. She fought to keep it back, but she couldn't stop it. She turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss.

"Merlin, Granger! You're getting dough all over my hair!"

- - -

Draco smiled bitterly, as he always did. Thinking about her… remembering those good times… The warmness they filled him with was always quickly overwhelmed by the pain of knowing that those times were over and would never return.

If he had known… if he somehow could have known… would he have done things differently? He wondered.

Draco walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. He stared at the empty fireplace. They had sat together, here, in front of this fireplace, so many times.

- - -

"I did it," she said as she came rushing in.

He was sitting on the sofa, reading. Upon hearing her outburst, he frowned. There was a strange, foreign glimmer in her eye. She seemed… excited, nervous, and ecstatic, all at the same time. He had never been aware anyone could feel those emotions all at once without exploding. "Did what?" he asked, standing up.

"Talked to Ron."

He laughed. "And this is news because...? You talk to the Weasel almost every day. What other titillating news will you share with me today, Granger? News flash! The sky is blue and clouds are made of evaporated water!"

She ignored him. "I talked to Ron about me and him," she continued.

He felt his heart stop. "What did you say?" he asked. He was sure his face, which was previously pale was now close to deathly pale.

Without saying anything, she walked over to him and kissed him. He was so surprised, he nearly fell backwards, but he managed to keep his balance. Fighting his desires, he gently pushed her away.

"What did you say?" he asked again.

"Isn't it obvious?" she drawled, clearly mocking him.

She was sounding a little too much like him. "Don't take that tone of voice with me, Granger," he warned.

She was grinning ear to ear though. "You were right, Draco. Ron and I weren't working out, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. But being here… being with you… everything in the world seems right at this moment."

"So what then?" He felt his heart racing slightly.

She kissed him again. This time, he didn't fight back.

- - -

"Draco?"

The unexpected sound startled him. He jumped up and spun around, pulling his wand from his robes and held it out, ready in his hand. But when he saw who it was, he nearly dropped his wand.

Hermione stood in the doorway. Her wide brown eyes were watching him, and they seemed slightly brighter than usual.

"You're here," she whispered.

He put his wand back in his robes. "As are you," he said quietly.

Hermione started walking toward him. "Are you going to run away again? Avoid talking to me as you did last time?" He didn't answer. "What are you doing here, Draco?" she asked. "Why did you come back?"

He still said nothing, standing stoically, still not returning her gaze. He couldn't look at her. He knew if he did, he might very well say or do something he'd later regret.

"You still love me, don't you? You wouldn't have come back if you didn't." Hermione looked up at him, imploring him to speak.

Draco, however, remained silent. Truthfully, he couldn't speak even if he had wanted to. His throat felt like it was being strangled. His tongue felt like it was made of lead. And of course, his mind was completely spinning.

Hermione reached out and touched his hand. "Draco, please…"

"Why do you want me to say that I love you so badly?" he finally managed to croak out. He stepped away from her. "To mock me? To torture me? Are you having fun watching me writhe in pain, Granger? Is this some sort of sick game?"

"No, no!" She shook her head vehemently. "No, I could never do something like that to you…"

Maybe you should, he thought bitterly.

When he didn't speak, she continued. "Draco, I know this can't be easy for you, and I assure you it isn't for me. I just wish somehow, we could go back three years…"

"So do I." The words left his mouth before he even knew it. He froze. As true as they were, he hadn't intended for Hermione to hear them.

She smiled sadly. "But we can't, can we? We're here, and the past is fixed, immutable." She sighed. "But I realised that we can't escape our pasts. These last three weeks, I've tried so hard not to think about you and not to think about all that happened between us and not to think about seeing you again. I knew I shouldn't, but I just couldn't. I thought if I could just… somehow… pretend you didn't exist I could forget about you but…" Hermione slowly reached out and touched his face. "Here I am. And here you are."

The feel of her hand on his face was heavenly. But it was also torture. He closed his eyes. "Hermione," he said thickly, "Hermione, please… don't…"

"Do you love me?" she asked again softly.

Then Draco made his mistake. He allowed himself to look into her eyes, and he completely lost all of his defenses. "Yes," he said quietly, looking down at the floor. "You know I do."

Hermione directed his face so that he was looking at her. She was smiling. Her face was radiant and she looked absolutely beautiful – every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Then, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He didn't fight back.


AN: Oh, Draco. You're such a sissy boy. :3 Wrote him all weak and soft, I did... but there's a reason for it and you'll see in time. I thought it'd be nice to see a few memories from Draco's pov, so here they are. And I know not many of you are fans of Ginny in this fic, but I totally love her character. I have so much fun writing her.

I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but seeing as how I'm still severely stumped as how to go forward, this shall have to do. It gets the job done, I suppose. Oh well.