Year 6

(Seamus Finnigan)

You don't write her over the summer. You can't think of anything to say without embarrassing yourself. It's funny, usually you've got no problem with that.

She was surprised. She was shocked, definitely. What if she hated it? What if you were a bad kisser? What if she thought you just wanted to be friends? And she'd basically fled after.

Yes, you think, that was a right stupid thing for you to do, though you've always seem to do the stupidest thing you can. The kiss was amazing, in an exciting, new way. But she probably just wants to be friends, you conclude.

You see why she likes him so much. Hell, he's gone through more in his first year than you could ever imagine. You do get a slice of the action sometimes, but he's The Chosen One's best friend. He's fought Death Eaters. He defeated a fully-grown mountain troll in his first year for Merlin's sake.

You shove that thought out of your head. It isn't your fault. She's a total bitch anyway.

Yeah.

"Alright mate?" Dean asks, grabbing a piece of licorice out of your hand and looking at you with concern. "You did great, honest."

Your arm is a little sore from that one quaffle you threw with just a tiny bit of uncontrolled force, but besides that you're glad the stressful tryouts are over.

"Brill." You say.

He gets Keeper. You don't get Chaser.

"I'll see you guys." Ron says, pushing up from the ground and opening the door.

"Going to meet Lav-Lav again?" You ask him teasingly, though you desperately want to know what is happening with them, and if he's actually going to meet her and how far they've gone. You want to know if he actually genuinely fancies her, because you don't think he does. You want to know why they're together. You want to know too much.

Dean looks at you, concerned, but you ignore him.

Ron grins. "Sod off." He says, leaving the dorm, letting the thick wooden door slam behind him.

Dean doesn't drop the look.

"What?"

"I saw you two."

Your hands start idly picking at the wood floorboards. The three of you were playing Wizard's chess, and Ron has won, of course. "Again, what?"

Dean scoots closer to you. "I saw you kiss Lavender. At King's Cross."

"Nah, she... see... well, don' really matter now, does it?" You stutter, even though you know you've never been able to keep anything from Dean.

"Guess not." He says casually, picking up the chessboard and putting it on Ron's bed.

"How're things with Gin?" You ask, changing the subject. You don't want to talk about anything remotely having to do with Lavender Brown, not while she's almost definitely snogging Ron Weasley at that very moment.

Dean takes the hint. "Great, actually." He replies, grinning.

"An' the snoggin'? How's that?"

"Even better." He says, flopping onto his bed, and staring up at the ceiling. "We haven't gotten far though, we're never left alone long enough. I really fancy her, you know? And we're just... together. And that's really great."

You nod, even though you don't really know what that's like, and something in your heart pangs.

You ask Susan Bones on a date for the next Hogsmeade weekend after you melt the cauldron you were sharing in potions (how you got into N.E.W.T. potions, you'll never know) and she takes you to the Hospital wing. She says yes.

You walk around with her, then get a drink at the Three Broomsticks. She's really funny, knows about Quidditch and even supports Ireland.

You like her.

At the end of the date, you take a risk, and kiss her.

It's nice, her lips move against yours. She smells like apple pie. She's got a fine arse too.

She pulls away quickly, and with a peck on the cheek, she disappears to the Hufflepuff common room.

You can't help but feel that it was a little anti-climactic.

Every morning at breakfast, you watch Lavender drag Ron over to a spot and eat breakfast together.

You don't know why you do this. One would expect that when a bloke still (unfortunately) wanted to snog a certain girl senseless they would not want to watch her feed strawberries to her boyfriend. But you do.

You watch them because you can't help but imagine it was you doing those things with her.

Not that you would admit that to yourself.

"Dean?" You call into the room. "You in here?"

Because even though he got to fill in for Katie Bell and be on the Quidditch team and you were jealous and stupid, he's still your best mate.

"Yes." His voice calls. He's sitting in an empty classroom that must be for storage, as there are many large objects obscured by black tarp. He looks like he might cry, and you know he will, because you've tried to hide your tears from each other unsuccessfully too many times.

"Y'arite?" You ask tentatively.

"Yeah. I mean, I knew it was coming." He says. "Gin and I haven't been on good terms for a while. It's just..."

"What?"

"I think it has something to do with Harry. I think he fancies her. And you know how she's worshipped him since... well, forever." You don't know what to say, because you know that's the truth. Anyone with eyes that spends nearly as much time as you with him could tell. But Dean didn't have to know that.

So you shrug. "Dunno."

A few minutes go by of neither of you saying anything.

"I wish I'd asked Parvati." He says out of the blue. "To the Yule Ball. I wish I'd asked her all those years ago."

"Only two years ago, Dean." You chuckle, surprised, because usually Dean's the voice of reason.

He laughed. "Well, it feels like years ago."

It does.

"So... er... Ron and Lavender broke up."

"Aye, they did. Lavender's pretty cut up about it." You reply.

You expect you would be overjoyed when the two finally split, but you aren't. You're disgusted that Lavender turned into a clingy, annoying mess, and that Ron didn't dump her sooner, but instead led her on a little longer because he was too afraid. You're angry about who Lavender is now, when she used to be this flighty, seemingly carefree girl with a secret fire burning underneath. You're infuriated that Ron treated her like a burden, like he was just too good for her, instead of talking to her and telling her that it wasn't working.

You're a little glad the public shows are over, but maybe you're a little sad to see it go because you notice she didn't sigh the way she did when you kissed her at the end of fifth year, and that was a fact you held on to. Sure she would moan dramatically, even gasp, but nothing was compared to that one fully genuine sigh.

Then again, you don't even fancy her anymore, you say to yourself, so why should you care? You know it's a lie, but you say it anyway.

Dean just nods, and looks at you pointedly. You don't feel like talking about her right now, not now when you can still hear her desperate, screeching voice in your ears.

"Falcons beat the wasps 120 to 90 yesterday." You say. "And if they win again... I reckon 'gainst the Arrows, they'll be up 'gainst Kenmare."

Dean shakes his head at you, and you grin.

"Come on, mate. It's nearly curfew." He says, moving towards the door. As you walk through the corridors, you throw your arm around his neck, even though he's about five inches taller than you. He's still cut up, but you think he'll be ok.

She cries all the time now, and you absolutely hate it. Every time she cries, ever since you met her on the Hogwarts Express, your stomach twists and a lump in your throat grows.

You think you could say something to her, maybe cheer her up by making a fire during potions or something. Nah, you couldn't.

One day after Charms, she's walking out and you accidentally bump into her, and Merlin she still smells like wildflowers in the spring. In her hair is the same pink ribbon she's worn forever, but it's falling out, and she looks like she's about to cry again.

She at you expectantly, deep brown eyes with flecks of gold making your stomach clench.

You dumbly move out of the way, and she whips past you, a mess of gold and brown and pink.

"He didn't deserve you." You say, but you don't think she hears you.

Your mam comes for you one morning, scolding that you haven't already packed your trunk. She owled you, saying she was coming, and you told her that you wanted to stay for the funeral, so you don't quite know why she's here.

"Well, run 'long then, get yer things." She says.

You shake your head. "Mam, I'm staying, I told you in the letter..."

"Seamus." She says scoldingly. You feel blood boil in your veins.

"Mam, I've got to stay. Dumbledore..."

"Lead this school inta verra grave danger."

And now you're angry. You believed what she told you, believed her beliefs. You doubted obvious signs last year, just because of what she told you. But you saw, you knew, and the man who was the leader of the resistance against dark forces was dead. You spent enough time going against what your gut told you.

"I'm not going." You say to her.

Her mouth twists in anger, and she leans close to you like she used to when you were little. "Seamus Davin Finnigan, I am your mother, and wha' I say, you'll do."

You rebelliously step back away from her. "Can't. I'm staying."

"You'll not be stayin' anywhere, young man, if ya keep this up!"

"I am staying!"

You say. It hurts your heart to yell at this woman who gave you everything, but you stand your ground. Everyone says you should pick your battles. And if this isn't one to pick, than you can't think of a better one.

"Come along Seamus." She says sternly, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

"Nah mam." You say, moving back away from her. "I'm staying. I told you tha' I was."

"Seamus."

"I'm not going!" You shouts. "For once, I've gotta make my own decisions. I'm staying and I'm going to the funeral."

The entire Great Hall is quiet, you realize, but you won't break eye contact with her. Her eyes look like you've just broken her heart in two, and maybe you have.

She suddenly looks resigned, stepping away from him and cocking her head. "I really can't stop ya', can I?"

This is when you have to decide. You could give in and say you're sorry and hug her and leave with your mam, or you could stay.

You shake your head, and with one more glance, you walk away from her and towards the Gryffindor table. Dean scoots down and makes a spot for you, and you take it.

And you could swear, you saw Lavender out of the corner of your eye smile.

You wish you could hear what the little man in the suit was saying up at the front. You catch snippets like "everlasting spirit" and "kept us all safe".

You remember the only time you'd ever personally met the Headmaster in your second year. You'd blown up your fourth cauldron during potions, and Professor Snape had been so mad that he'd yelled in your face and told you to go to Dumbledore's office. You walked up there on wobbley legs, wondering if they were going to expell you. But Dumbledore had only entered, offered you a licorice snap, and said that it was alright, but that you had to try a bit harder to focus. He'd had kind, sparkling eyes, and you felt ok.

He really had been a kind man.

Lavender sits next to you, and you hear her quietly sigh and clamp her eyes shut, as one does when they're trying to hold in tears. You feel like you might cry, if you allow yourself, which you won't.

Without thinking about it, your hand finds hers, and you hold onto her like a tether to reality. She looks up at you, eyes full of sadness, and you wish there was some way that you could take it away, take her away to a place where you'd never have to see her cry again. You smile at her, hoping that will give her strength, hoping that she'll smile back at you so you can take a little ray of sunshine from the metaphorically dreary day.

She leans her head on your shoulder, letting you smell her flowery scented hair and feel how soft it is against your cheek.

You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

And you realize how much you want her. Not in a sexual way (although Merlin, you do too), but how you want to hold her hand forever. To be with her. She makes you feel happy even though you're sitting in the middle of a funeral.

But she's complex and you're simple, you're ordinary and she's beautiful. You aren't Harry Potter, not even Ron Weasley, you're just Seamus Finnigan.

Yet somewhere deep inside, you hope that maybe she likes just Seamus Finnigan.

(Lavender Brown)

He doesn't write you over the summer. You don't write him either.

You are nervous, perhaps you're supposed to write him? You wish you could ask your mum, but she's somewhere in Asia right now, and you know owling overseas costs a fortune, and you don't have much money of your own to spend. You sat for hours in your room, analyzing the kiss, wondering why out of all the guys you've ever kissed, Seamus' was the most... electrifying.

He just wants to be friends, you suddenly think. That's why he hasn't written. Obviously this means that he doesn't want anything from you, maybe it was a joke, or a bet or something.

You decide to clear him from your mind. He's just a boy, after all.

"Doesn't he look so handsome in his Quidditch uniform?" You giggle to Parvati.

The air is crisp and cold outside, especially for this early on in the year. A mass of red and gold uniforms swim before you on the pitch, each carrying brooms and glancing around up into the stands. You zip your pink jacket up tightly, and you swear Ron looks up at you. "Doesn't he?"

She smiles and nods, though you see her slightly looking at Dean. You don't say anything about it, because you want to continue selfishly talking about your crush.

He's there too. He tries out for Chaser. He flies well, but not as fast as the others. You dismiss him from your thoughts, because Ron is here, and who is Seamus to Ron, right?

"He's so brave too." You say, tilting your head to the side and inspecting his tall, ginger body. "And positively yummy."

"He is, Lav." Parvati replies, but sounds automatic.

He's talking to Hermione.

Ugh.

He looks a little nervous, which is oh so cute, and you just want to eat him up he's that adorable.

He's about to be up and you rush up to him, and breathlessly wish him luck. He seems a little surprised at first, and then blushes. He smiles confidently, and strides out. He's so cute.

Darting back to Parvati, the two of you watch as Keeper tryouts begin.

You don't notice Seamus sitting with Dean across the pitch, chewing on some licorice and laughing.

You won't.

"WEAS-LEY! WEAS-LEY! WEAS-LEY!" The crowd chants. Your hair is perfect and curled, a red polish on your nails, and a bubble in your throat because Ron was the reason Gryffindor won, he's such a hero.

He's the prince.

He's shoved down back onto his feet, and you make your move. In a split second, your lips smash into his clumsily, and your hands touch ginger hair. His lips move against yours, inexperienced. Everyone cheers and whistles and claps, and you simply love the attention. Eat your heart out, Hermione Granger.

When you finally pull away, you vaguely notice a head of bushy brown hair isn't part of the crowd anymore.

Ron notices too.

So you kiss him again.

He's Ron, he's your Won-Won, your boyfriend, and you two are in love. You both can barely keep your hands off each other, and with every little kiss (well, they're never really little, are they?) you feel like you float just a little higher off the ground.

You kiss him all the time, whenever you can, because that inferno of hormones you grew two years ago burns and roars so much louder now. And he's a boy and he's hot and you just can't help wanting him to drag his hands all over you.

Your hand slips into his pants, and you shiver as his hands travel up under your shirt.

And you say to yourself that his kisses are better than any you've ever had, because they are, right?

You pretend you don't hear Granger crying late at night. You know she watches you and Ron, whenever you're together, like the vindictive jealous bitch she is. You know for a fact that she hates your guts.

Well, you hate hers too.

You know Fay Dunbar and Patty Horncrack whisper about you behind your back, your now-ex-friends. You remember when you used to be close with them, when you all used to giggle at Seamus, Dean, Terry, Anthony, and Michael's different antics. You remember when Patty admitted she liked Neville and you fell off the bed in shock. You remember Fay talking about becoming an Auror, already researching about the training program. You remember how Hermione used to talk to you all too, and the five of you would sit in a circle and play games.

You hold onto the fact that you are Ron's girlfriend, and Hermione isn't, she's only his friend. You know deep down that that title won't help you.

You hate that Hermione so obviously likes Ron. You hate that that Ron so obviously misses Hermione. You hate Fay and Patty, for turning their backs on you, and you hate Harry bloody Potter, for constantly making back-handed insults about you every time he's around. You hate that even Parvati rolls her eyes at your sometimes. You hate how desperate you feel lately. You hate all of them and your mum and your dad who haven't written in weeks and the entire bloody castle, for that matter.

You see the necklace in a shop when you're with your mum, and you buy it on a whim, saying that you're going to send it to your boyfriend who you love.

Mum smiles her perfect red-lipped smile, but says that she could have just sent Eloise out. This is the second shopping trip you've ever been on with her, and you had to practically beg her to take you. You're in this wizarding village that you don't remember the name of, but all the shops are covered in white snow and you feel ecstatic to be walking through it with your mum.

So you buy it, and decide you're going to send it to him so he can have it for Christmas, because you insisted you wanted to pick something out special.

"Congratulations, baby." She says, smoothing out the fly aways coming off your hair. "You've found your boy."

Nobody told you. You're his bloody girlfriend, for Merlin's sake! Yet still, you felt like you were the very last to know.

Ron was poisoned. No one knows by who, but he'd been poisoned with a love potion from that minger Romilda Vane, and then poisoned again by something else, no one would say what.

But of course Hermione was there. She stayed the entire night, and when you entered the Hospital wing in the morning, she was asleep in a chair next to his bed, fluffy hair sticking out everywhere.

How could she expect that Ron would like her looking like that? You told yourself. No possible way.

But there's a little voice in the back of your mind that disagrees.

You knew she fancied him.

You didn't care.

You saw what you wanted, and you took it. You took it all for yourself, because you said that you were more beautiful than her, and you wanted to prove to yourself that she couldn't get your way. You could get your prince because you were lovely.

You leave the hospital wing, heart heavy full of unwanted realities that you will push away.

"But... I mean, that can't be all, right?" You ask Harry fervently. You've been asking Harry about Ron and his feelings and intentions, simply because it's been too long since you've actually gotten to talk to him.

You can feel Harry getting annoyed with you, but you press on.

He looks like he's about to fall asleep into his porridge. "Look, why don't you talk to Ron about all this?"

"Well, I would, but he's always asleep when I go and see him!" You say, fighting to keep your voice not quivering.

"Is he?" says Harry, surprised.

And in that moment, you acknowledge to yourself that it's true, that yes he's pretending to be asleep. That he's shutting you out. Why? Could it be something that someone told him? Had Hermione somehow convinced him of...?

"Is Hermione Granger still visiting him?" You demand suddenly.

"Yeah, I think so. Well, they're friends, aren't they?" Harry says uncomfortably.

"Friends, don't make me laugh." You say scornfully. "She didn't talk to him for weeks after he started going out with me! But I suppose she wants to make up with him now he's all interesting..."

Deep down, you know that isn't true. You may be known for being ditzy, but you've spent years with the girl. Ever since fourth year, she'd been smitten with him. She would still like him even if he got both his legs and arms chopped off and permanent face boils.

"Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?" Asks Harry, and you're taken aback. "Anyway - sorry, got to go - there's McLaggen coming for a talk about Quidditch." Says Harry, and dashes away.

You're left with his words echoing in your ears.

"What were you doing up there with her?" You shriek,even you hating the sound of your voice. Ron stands there, dumbfounded while Hermione comes into the light behind him. Walking out of the boy's dormitory, no less!

"We - Lav, I - nothing! - and -" He splutters. Hermione looks a little shocked, and you suddenly want to smack that expression off her face. And you're just so full of hate, hate, hate and it's pent up inside you and you just want to roar, to breathe fire, to punch a hole in a wall.

"Oh sure, you're doing nothing." You spit. "All alone up there in a dorm, with a bunch of beds."

"Lavender -" Hermione starts sympathetically.

"Don't." You hiss at her. She immediately shuts up and steps behind Ron. You hate that she does this, she's making you feel like a wolf coming to gobble the dainty little princess up. But that's wrong, you're the dainty little princess and she's the bitch who stole your boyfriend.

"Lav -"

"Choose Ron." You say angrily. "Choose. Her... or me."

His face is a mask of fear and confusion, looking at you frightfully. "Lavender, she's my best friend."

"I'M YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" You roar, and stomp your foot like a petulant little girl.

He says nothing, merely looks at you.

You step up to him, getting right up in his face. And you can just tell that he desperately just wants to leave, to run away. But Merlin dammit, you're the queen and you rule your kingdom, and you desperately trying to hold onto him has been going on for too long.

"This is it." You say, shoving his chest. "We're over."

And they come again, the diamond tears. The tears that feel like they should be real, but they aren't. They don't leave tracks, they just spring out of your eyes as if one cue. You can feel everyone in the common room staring at you, and for once you hate the attention. Because you just simply know that all of them are rooting for Hermione.

So you run.

You cry and cry and cry. That's all you feel like you do lately.

He dusts some snow off her shoulder during breakfast. The tears fall again. You know people think you're overreacting.

But you just can't help noticing how gently he touches her, how he sneaks peeks at her all the time, how he smiles that secret smile that's only for her.

He's hers. She's his. And even you couldn't get in the way of that.

You feel like you need to punch something again.

You stomp upstairs, Parvati quick behind you, and into the empty dorm room.

"Did you see her today?" You ask, angrily kicking off your shoes. "When she named all those potions? Merlin, she was so smug."

"Lav, no she wasn't."

"Well, she insulted Divination. Said it was a load of codswallop. Probably just because she's so unromantic and logical that she can't possibly fathom it, I'd say!"

"She's always been a little closed-minded." Parvati says, shrugging. You suddenly feel angry again, the hate monster that's been growing inside you needs another chance to breathe. It's been coming up for air a lot lately.

"I don't expect you to agree me, since you and the Wicked Witch are such chums now." You say spitefully, remembering how you came in late for charms, and Parvati was paired up with Hermione, and you had to work with Neville.

"Lavender." Parvati says steadily.

"What?" You snap, and find yourself glaring muderously at her.

And suddenly everything just falls apart. You don't feel angry... just... drained. Sad. Since when are you snapping at Parvati? She's been your only friend who's stuck with you through all of this.

You crumple, hugging her tightly, breathing in the familiar cinnamon scent of the shampoo she's been using since first year because her mother recommended it to her to make hair shinier. She hugs you tightly back, like she can sense that your resolve's finally broke, that you're really just a vain, lonely little girl with a pink ribbon in her hair, walking around inside herself, listening to her own footsteps for too long.

"Parvati, I'm so sorry! I'm s-ss - I just..." You splutter against her, the tears spilling out of your eyes. They're real tears this time, not the diamonds that you used to cry when you didn't get your way.

"It's alright, it's alright." In that calming, motherly way that Parvati's always possessed. Now that you think about it, she is everything to you. Your mother and your best friend and your secret keeper, and you shut her out and didn't listen to her, even when you knew she spoke the truth. Always there when you cry to calm you down.

She brings you over to her bed, and lifts the covers. You both crawl in and you cling to her, like you used to when there was a big thunderstorm and you where afraid of the lightening. It's silent, but a good kind of silent, navy blue and vast, canceling out sound and calming your muscles.

"I love you." You whisper into her hair.

"Love you too." She says, and you can hear her smile through the words.

The year ends.

"Bye Lavender." Parvati says tearfully. Padma and her mum and dad wait expectantly, shepherding the two of them away. Parents have been coming all morning, whisking their children away in the carriages.

You give her a bone-crushing hug, because you're not certain you'll see her again next year. She hugs you back, quietly crying into your hair. You release her, and watch her silhouette leave the ironically sunny Great Hall.

You move, sit down at the breakfast table next to Patty. Neither of you say anything. You eat mechanically, and then McGonagall comes and takes a recount of the few that still remain. You wonder if your parents knew what was happening and just assumed you'd want to stay, or that they hadn't bothered to find out what was happening.

Out of nowhere, you hear a boy yelling. Everyone turns, and your breath hitches because you know that voice.

He's standing there, staring defiantly at a woman with sandy hair, like him, and must be his mother. His face in angry, his fists clenched, but you can tell his eyes are sad.

"Come along Seamus." She says sternly, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

"Nah mam." He says, moving back away from her. "I'm staying. I told you tha' I was."

His accent is thicker than you can ever remember hearing, and you don't know why.

"Seamus."

"'M not goin'." He shouts. "For once, I've gotta make my own decisions. 'M stayin' and 'm goin' ta the funeral."

You heard overheard Neville talking about a shouting match Seamus and his mother had gotten into previously, the day you and Parvati skipped breakfast and slept in. You can't really imagine that it happened, though. Seamus loves his mum more than anything.

The woman looks resigned, stepping away from him and cocking her head. "I really can't stop ya', can I?"

Seamus shook his head, and with a parting glace, walks over to the Gryffindor table and past McGonagall. You don't know why, but inside something deep within you lets out a breath of awe.

The sun is shining brightly. McGonagall leads the Gryffindors to their assigned seats. There are hundreds of chairs, half already being taken up by adults. There are so many different people here, you see a woman with pink hair sitting with your third-year Defense teacher Professor Lupin. Lots of men in black clothes that look official sit to the left, and you think they're from the ministry. It surprises you how many people's lives were truly touched by Dumbledore. Umbridge is here, too, with the Minister of Magic himself. Old wizards with dusty cloaks dot around the odd creatures that look non-human.

A beautiful white tomb sits on a marble pedestal. It shines beautifully in the sunlight. You wish Parvati were here.

Someone sits next to you, and you see out of the corner of your eye that it's Seamus.

The ceremony starts, a little man in a black suit steps up and starts saying things, but your so far back that you can only hear bits and pieces.

You feel your eyes start to swell up, so you screw them shut. You feel a rough hand clasp yours, and you look up at him. Seamus' eyes look a little swollen too, but he's trying to be strong. He meets your gaze, and you immediately warm. He gives you a watery smile, and then looks back up to the front.

You're relieved and glad that he's here, that he'll hold your hand as you cry, that you've still got Flammable Finnigan, even if you haven't talked to him in an entire year. You lean your head on his shoulder, and he squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

You cry some more, but you resolve that this will be your last cry of the year.

You think it's silly, almost selfish that you're crying. You never spoke to him, never knew him other than as the Headmaster with the twinkly eyes.

But you cry because of the sad melody you hear and the people around you sobbing and the fact that whenever there was any shred of danger, you weren't really afraid, because he was alive. The older kids would talk about Dumbledore, "as long as we've got Dumbledore, Hogwarts is safe". They spoke about him like he was some god walking on the earth, the patron angel of Hogwarts, a symbol of hope and safety.

But in the end, he was just as human as... well, you.

At this realization, you notice a crack in your dream castle wall.

A/N: Wow this was a long chapter. Fair warning, though, next year is a big year, and it will also be a pretty long chapter. Thanks to everyone that reviewed, it means so much to me(:

Any dialogue you recognize was taken directly from Half-Blood Prince (by JKR), no copyright infringement intended.

Please review!