Chapter 2
Terms of Agreement
Two days into term and Hermione was furious.
The Ministry of Magic, in their ignorant fear of Dumbledore, forced a new professor to assume the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor: Dolores Umbridge. It rendered the class into a Kindy class. They supplied textbooks juvenile in writing and application. It boiled Hermione's blood to hold it as a serious classroom resource. She read through the text. Twice. It was a joke.
Dolores Umbridge was the worst professor to enter Hogwarts. Including the fraud, Lockart. And Quirrel whom had Voldemort living within his skull!
Hermione set about a nice quiet space to do her own personal studies on the subject. Books from the library would provide adequate instruction. As long as she understood the spells in every educational way given, she would be more knowledgeable than the average fifth year in terms of defense.
She asked Harry and Ronald to join, but they declined.
Things were tense between the trio. The year before had been difficult for them all, but it impacted Harry the worst of all. He watched someone die. A traumatic thing all on it's own, but it was not the height of the nightmares that he endured in that graveyard. Voldemort was given life once more. From the blood of Harry birthed his enemy to flesh.
Cedric's slaying and Voldemort's rise left him a panicked mess. Most days he retreated to his own place, whether it was literal or mental, and tolerated zero disturbances, even from his best friends.
Hermione chewed her lip. Some days she questioned his coping. There were times when his eyes burned with such fury that she thought he'd embraced a much darker view of the world than they all believed in. That perhaps Voldemort had won over Harry just by the exposed evil possible in a world already so cruel.
She'd hoped that a return to Hogwarts would help. If anything, it was worse.
Gryffindor Tower was a edgy place. The question of Dumbledore and Harry tore apart the place in a battleground of belief and fear, fear over what awaited the world with the news of Voldemort's return and the true separation of magic.
It was all too much for her. She needed some bit of semblance. Thus, old defense books filled with actual, useful information.
An abandoned part of the castle provided a shortcut to the grounds. It was left unbothered. Nothing resided in the part of the castle, parts were in utter ruin, too. Students opted to walk around in more pretty background. Hermione did not mind.
Torch sconces lit her way. Her steps echoed throughout the stone corridor. Portraits lined the walls of that part of castle. They greeted her with soft voices as she walked.
The afternoon light was blocked by the other part of the castle. Light only extended to the sconce ahead. It casted eerie shadows. They started to play tricks on her mind like another set of echoing steps as she walked through.
Darkness was a muggle fear. She worried about boogeymen in shadows ready to kidnap or rape her in Muggle streets. It was irrational. The fears instilled in her mind from childhood were hard to lose.
Still, she felt goosepimples race up the backs of her arms and down her spine. Sounds and light melted together. They became one as they toyed with her. She gasped when she brushed against a cold stone wall.
Her heart pounded in its bone cage as she pressed forward, deeper into the bowels of ruined sections of the castle perfect for hiding fugitives and invaders. The torches stopped. Her path drenched in pitch black as she stared on the edge of the abyss.
Then she heard it. There was a definite sound from another.
Hermione turned on toe. "Who's there?"
It fell still.
Creeping coldness ascended her spine as she waited to be cursed in the dark, or her own mind to splinter to madness from tricks of light.
She swallowed the lump of fear. "I know someone's there. Show yourself or I'll -."
"You'll what, Granger?"
A pale face full of brilliant platinum hair emerged through shadow. Draco Malfoy. He bled to light as he swaggered close, closer than she could believe. How did he move so quietly through shadow? He wore a set of well-fitted school robes, an emerald green striped tie the centerpiece to the entire ensemble. A brilliant 'P' reflected from his school patch.
He was not a friend. They were known enemies.
Harry and Ronald liked to duel him. They were baited easily into a duel, all of them.
Hermione, on the other hand, was not welcome to address him since she was a mudblood, a station much below the heir of Malfoy house. He made a point of saying so. Often.
She couldn't help but wonder what forced his hand to seek her out. Nothing of consequence, she knew, but it was an interesting query.
The closer he drew, the more defined his outline became.
"What do you want Malfoy?" She spat.
The sardonic chuckle that answered did not calm her nerves.
Draco ran his tongue along his lower lip. "You."
A chill ran down her spine.
"What?" Breath caught in her throat. Where on Earth did that come from? "What are you talking about?"
"What about the word 'you' has you confused?"
Her eyes narrowed. "All of it."
"Allow me to clarify." An arm shot out and grabbed hold of her. She tried to retract but the hold was anchored onto her bicep with a taut squeeze. Had he been that close before? "I want to own you, Granger. I want that pretty, little ass of yours to have my name on it and every little whim I have to be fulfilled. Every little one."
Her eyes bulged.
Of all the horrid things Draco Malfoy had implied or flat out declared over the years, that was the worst. She was no harlot. There were witches aplenty willing to crawl into his bunk with the idea of sexual favors being exchanged. Hermione was not one of them.
Teenagers were filled with hormones that made momentary pleasure supersede all other instincts, and it was a truth that Hermione recognized as a universal law. If she withstood the power that her body exerted, she was in true control of herself.
There was no feeling better than self-control.
Outright shock fell straight to her knees. He did not draw his wand. The point was to talk. Which meant that what he said was the point, confusing her even more. Draco Malfoy played games, but ones that kept his reputation intact, not just for the sake of toying with her. It was the first touch they ever had, one that he initiated, morphed her confusion and shock into some blend of both emotions.
"You're mental if you think I'd agree to that."
He sneered. "I am not interested in your choice. I've come to tell you this is what is going to happen. You will be mine and only mine. You'll be available for me whenever I ask it and do whatever it is that I ask. There will be no more late-night letters sent to wizards without my perusal first."
Her jaw fell open. How did he learn of that?
"Don't look like that. It hardly took a genius to figure it out." He glanced over her shoulder. "Furthest from it. Crabbe and Goyle were the ones who did."
Hermione took, jaw still open, a look to the two giant oafs along the other side of the corridor. The taller, Goyle, had a toffee apple. He ate at it slowly. Eyes full of hatred. She felt their bitter burn. Lucky his interest in his treat turned more important than her or she might have sent a hex his way to turn his eyes into more appealing things like pumpkins.
Lower down on the wall was the lump of a wizard, Crabbe. He was perfectly round with his head on top. Like a potato. He was often the lesser awful than the three. As she stared down at them, he gave a gentle wave.
"You followed me?" She asked.
They bobbed their heads.
"They'll be along with you from now on," Draco said. "To ensure my terms are upheld, of course."
Finally his words sank in. He was serious.
There was no play of amusement in his features. A solid slate of pale flesh stretched across the sharpest jaw line, perfect upright nose, and a pair of the most emotional gray eyes. There was coolness in their touch. It stung sharp when he was angry. Now the chilly gaze relived the hot spaces of sweat below her collar from the warm Scottish sun.
He brought himself up to her chest. One hand held her tight, unable to pull away no matter how hard she yanked. Two more wands in the hands of his followers gave little comfort. There was no fight. She was outmanned.
Sure, she could yell. No one would hear. That's why he picked that time to approach her, when he knew there was no possible way to lose.
"You will obey me."
Hermione turned bright red with fury. "I will never."
"You will."
"I won't!" She stomped. "You cannot make me."
"Sure, I can."
"I'll curse you if you try," she declared. "I'll tell Harry. I'll tell Ron."
Draco snickered. His hot breath hit her face. "I'm not afraid of Potter or Weaslebee. Let them come for you. Earn themselves an expulsion. Easy work for me, isn't it? That'll leave me the rest of the year to break you in at my leisure."
Umbridge made things a struggle. There was not much wiggle room for Gryffindors with that woman around the castle. Harry was blackmarked by the Ministry. Everyone thought he lied about the Dark Lord's return. The Prophet smeared his name at every turn, with encouragement from the Ministry no doubt, Umbridge a figure head for such smearing.
Poor Harry had no room for error. He had to stay on the straight and narrow if he wanted to continue his education at Hogwarts.
She gritted her teeth. "I will fight you every step."
"Brilliant. Care to start right now?"
Draco waited for no answer. He dragged her down the long corridor. Just before they reached a more populated area of the castle, he leaned down and whispered, "Not a word to anyone, okay, mudblood?"
For the moment, there was no way to break away from him. Harry was at risk. He mattered more than a little humiliating discomfort at the hands of Draco Malfoy.
Hermione nodded. Words failed her. She could not believe it was happening to her. Nightmares that plagued her at night were no where close to this. Plans for every circumstance glazed over the possibility that Malfoy might try to blackmail her into forced association for fun. He ignored her most of the time!
What changed?
He lead on, albeit not too far ahead that he couldn't grab her at a moment's notice, toward a collection of benches in the courtyard where Slytherins gathered during free period. Panic jumped at the back of Hermione's throat. She couldn't face them all. Most of them hexed her. More than once.
Draco approached with his back straight, arrogant as always. His nose perched high in the air. A single hand ran back through his slicked hair down to the base of his neck.
Pansy greeted him with a question of where he'd been, she missed him, nonsense. As if anyone missed a foul person like Malfoy.
Crabbe and Goyle surpassed her. She clutched her books close to her chest as they passed. Experience told her to recoil near them. All.
They all mingled together. Pansy Parkinson sat crossed legged in front of a pretty witch named Daphne. Her fingers split through Pansy's raven colored locks in neat rows, braided into two long fishtails. The skinny, awkward wizard named Theo Nott stared absently off into the distance. No one seemed to disturb him.
The two followers swiftly sat on an open bench. One pulled out a bag of exploding rocks from their robe pockets and threw them at their feet. Little bits of rock and black gunpowder spit up. They were entertained by it. Hermione half-expected her captor to join in. Draco, however, separated from their company. He sat next to Daphne on the other concrete bench, Pansy at his feet. Both witches glanced his way momentarily.
Somehow, they hadn't spied Hermione on the cusp of their presence. Books against her chest as a makeshift shield from what could come from their wands, she awaited the chance to leave. She watched Draco closely. His attention strayed to his friends. It lingered. An entire minute without his glare was a green light.
She inched backward, careful not to register within their peripherals, when the dreaded gray eyes met hers.
The wool of her sweater became heavy as she was beckoned closer into the den by two fingers of Draco's hand. She stepped forward once. Then twice.
He tired of her hesitation.
"Come here, mudblood." He snapped his fingers together as if she were a pet easily led with promised treats. One finger on his hand pointed to the concrete near his feet. "Sit here."
Pansy spun around so quick, her neck near snapped at the rotation. "Whaaaat?" screeched its way from her expansive mouth like the call of a hawk.
She paused. A hex from Pansy wouldn't be an unfounded fear. Pansy was a female version of Malfoy. The pair fed into awful habits of the company they kept. Gossip and violence were her cup of tea.
"What's she doing here?" The witch spat. "No wands to wax, Granger?"
Draco snarled. "She's here because I want her here."
He snapped his fingers once more. Hermione quickly seated herself on the concrete at his feet, careful not to touch his trousers but close enough that she would be closest to him than anybody. She did not know any of the other Slytherins. They all disliked her placement within their group, but none rose to question Malfoy either.
Perhaps there was safety amongst them at Draco's side.
She dusted off the edges of her dark skirt. Dust of the ground smudged against the fabric and clung like a magnet. It gave her a place for her eyes. Better than the glares.
"Her presence insults us," Pansy snipped. "All of us. Mudbloods don't belong here. She should be in a cage in that dumb oaf's cottage than a castle. Is that where you plan to put her, Draco? A filthy thing like that should be washed in the lake first. Come boys, let's get her nice and clean before we roll her down that hill."
The pounding in her chest throttled her ribs. Each beat felt the very force meant to shatter bone shards all throughout the tender tissue of her lungs, eventually piercing through something important enough to kill her.
Oh, if only the world was merciful.
Hermione fought the urge to storm off. Harry at the center of her mind, she calmed the rage in her fingers demanding that she pull her wand and stayed put. There was a way to get out of this arrangement with Draco; she just hadn't thought of it yet.
She counted the rows of rock embedded in the concrete to pass the time. Her input was not required, just her physical presence.
"What good are mudbloods if they can't be used?" Draco chuckled.
It helped ease the discomfort that Pansy Parkinson exuded. Partly.
"Just how do you plan to use her, Draco?" She asked. "What use does a wizard like you have for a thing like her?"
"Allow me to demonstrate." He nudged her with his foot, toppling her over onto the hard ground. "Mudblood. I'm thirsty. Get me some water."
Hermione walked her hands back against their burning scrapes until she sat again. Open wounds rested at the base of both her palms. She glared back at Draco.
He raised an eyebrow. It toyed with her sense of self-control. She gained it back with a deep inhaling breath.
"Well?" He crossed his arms.
"I don't have water," she answered. Truthfully.
That was not an answered that registered. He repeated himself," Get. Me. Water. Mudblood."
She shook her head. "There is none."
"Water. Now."
All eyes of the other students blistered her skin. They watched on in devilish satisfaction as Hermione sacrificed one of her library books to transfigure it into a goblet fitted with a golden handle and rim. Water poured from the tip of her wand into the glass.
She held the goblet on an outstretched palm until he took it with a smirk.
"See? It listens to commands."
With an ugly scowl, Pansy glared at the ill-suited witch next to her as if she were infected with the plague and she, Pansy, was a high-born too important to be risked such disease. "Well I hate it."
After that the witch slithered up from the ground onto Draco's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled his face away violently. Any other witch would realize the overstep. Not Pansy. She continued to help herself to Draco's lap.
A bit of something, Hermione wasn't sure what exactly it was, boiled its way out of her depths. Was she not the one subjected to him, unwillingly? He should have the decency to entertain one witch at a time.
She crossed her arms and refused to watch the spectacle that Pansy loved to incite. The number of roofing tiles of Hogwarts was far more interesting.
1…2…3…
"Really, Draco. What's your plan for the little beast?" Black eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly's wings. "You can't really keep her. None of us want her around. Ugly thing makes me sick to my stomach."
Four nails dig deep into Hermione's palms.
4…5…6…
Draco grabbed hold of Pansy's waist and dragged her off with one swift motion. "I'll do what I wish. If you don't like it, you can kick rocks for all I care. That goes for the lot of you."
No matter how she hated Malfoy for his forced company, a tiny, ever so slight sliver of satisfaction that inflated the smallest possible respect it could. He was a menace. Nothing to attach herself to. She promptly reminded that part of all the vile things he'd done, this circumstance being one of the lesser offenses yet none the less an insult to own a person because of their heritage.
This game he wanted meant nothing. He wanted her pain. He wanted to hurt her friends.
"We didn't say anything," Daphne said.
A section of black hair flipped into his face. His eyes near turned bright red.
Draco snatched Pansy's wrist mid-air. "Next time, you'll just remember who you address."
She returned to her seat with a pouty look, that was, until she noticed the glances from the others. It turned to a harsh glare. They all looked back at their own activities in the awkward silence that fell.
Hermione looked up at Draco with hesitation. He seemed more than ready to duel. Not that she was afraid, but if she fought him, Harry was bound to find out.
More than anything, she wanted to keep Harry in Hogwarts. He had enough to deal with. The little protection there was to be had was within school grounds. He needed it.
So, she remained in compliance. She focused on her studies. The crisp old pages crinkled in hand as she turned chapter after chapter, defensive spell after shield charm. At one point Draco tapped her shoulder and grabbed the book from her grip. It was a fight of which was stronger.
He won.
Hermione crossed her arms in frustration as he fingered through the pages. Once he lifted an eyebrow as if he was interested.
Eventually he handed back the book and allowed her to continue.
Sometime later, two other Slytherin students joined their housemates in the courtyard. They were older. Both wizards. She recognized one from the Quidditch team as Terrence Higgs. He was lean with the blackest black hair knotted at the crown of his head. A faint line of a simple black necklace laid below his shirt. The other wizard was called Vaisey, though she wasn't sure if it was last name or first. He was average. Nothing stood out about the man.
Hermione sat in her dedicated spot at Draco's leg in silence until attention fell to her once more.
"Got a friend, have you, Malfoy? Didn't know you had many of those." It was Terrence Higgs who said it.
Blood nearly dribbled from her tongue; she had to bite it so hard to keep from laughing. The older wizard was not impressed by Draco Malfoy. He acted as if he was an annoyance rather than an equal.
Draco scoffed. "I've gotten myself a mudblood, Higgs. It takes more skill than a remedial reader like yourself can offer, though I hear the Hufflepuffs are looking for a stuffed bear to snuggle. You'd make the perfect fit, what with that beard and all. Sure you're not a werewolf? Some kind of beast."
Wow. The edge of Malfoy's tongue was sharp indeed.
Higgs ignored Malfoy, the heart of a true saint. It was not easy. Malfoy had a way of picking at wounds already formed in one's heart, so they bled a better show for him.
Terrence lowered his palms to his bent knees. He was so close. She smelled the wash of fresh springs cloud her mind.
She was dazzled by a pair of vibrant green eyes. Layers upon layers of sparkling grassy green richer than Buckingham Palace's lawn. And where she expected disdain inside them, there was a softness that fluttered her heart.
"Don't you have anything better to do than sit here with him?" He asked with a polite smile. "For example, jumping from the Astronomy Tower."
Hermione smiled. "Well I -."
"Mudblood."
A hand thudded against her shoulder. Each of his five fingernails dug into her flesh enough to bring tears to her eyes. She fluttered them back quickly. Malfoy glared at her with his lips firmly pressed together.
Whatever she'd done to deserve it, she didn't know. Still, she didn't speak.
"As much fun as this is, you should shove off. We're busy breaking her in," Draco said. The literal tension in his voice could cut flesh.
Terrence straightened. He was so tall.
Hermione recalled only a select few times that she saw him in Hogwarts. The green of his collar dismissed her attention toward the wizard with tensions being what they were between the houses, but the encounter changed her opinion of him. He seemed not so bad. For one, he addressed her like a person. There was no use of that nickname that the other Slytherins preferred to use rather than her name.
All the years of Malfoy's use of the word numbed her to it. She hadn't felt its sting since third year. Still, it embarrassed her that he used it so often in her presence.
Terrence remained unmoved by Draco's insults. He looked over to his friend.
"Let's leave Malfoy to his games, Vais. Not time for him to be with the grownups yet, is it?" The two older Slytherins snickered. "Least he could do is act like a Black. They weren't childish brats."
They walked off toward the Quidditch pitch. She swore Terrence glanced over his shoulder at her once, but she couldn't be sure; Malfoy glared.
Theo suddenly came to. The blank stare cleared his face as thought came back to his mind.
"Granger?" He looked around at his friends with surprise.
Daphne wrinkled her nose. "Yeah. Wake up, Theo."
He rubbed his palm against his forehead. "What you here for?"
"She's Draco pet, or something." Pansy scowled. Crooked bodies of teeth showed to the light.
Hermione cringed. She grew up with two parents as dentists. Dental hygiene and elective dental surgery were popular within the Muggle world to correct such problems like crookedness and discoloration from too much tea. If it wasn't such an insult to a pureblood witch to offer, she would slip Pansy a business card.
Not that it would be well received. They'd probably hex her. Draco had done so with a tooth enlarging hex that swelled her teeth twice their size before. It was embarrassing. Her already buck teeth grew into beaver chompers.
"That's right. She's my pet." Draco made a point to illustrate the point, yet again, that she was only his to bully, though plenty of them got the chance to go unpunished when they said something horrible.
She'd always viewed Malfoy as a child. A petty, pathetic child with no limits as to how far he was allowed to behave toward others and was in turn created into a monster with a love to bully others just because it was all he knew. Harry and Ron thought different. They believed him evil.
Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. A notably cruel one, too. But Draco?
Lucius always made a point to physically correct his son, in public, in front of others. Draco looked like a wounded puppy when that happened. She thought it sad. The image that Malfoy portrayed himself was a mere mask of somebody he was expected to be, not that he actually was.
There was no doubt that Lucius was a firm father. He had expectations for his only son and heir. He left rather large and relentless shoes to fill. Ones that Draco had to step into at his father's death or removal from his post as Lord Malfoy.
It was in every right that Lucius wanted his family to continue on in the tradition that it always had been, thus a strict expectation of what Draco was to be.
She'd been lost in her thoughts when Dolores (she refused to think of her as a professor) Umbridge greeted those of her former Hogwarts house. There was a brilliant reception of pleasantries until her noticed an outside amongst them.
"Miss Granger? What on Earth…Are you here bothering them?" She asked with that pointed tone.
There was another awkward silence that descended when no one knew what to answer, or who. It was Draco's doing. He was the reason she was there. But, it was Umbridge. No one liked to go against her for anything.
And, they were Slytherins; watching a Gryffindor roll in mortification was what they liked best.
"Well?" Umbridge tapped her foot against grass. The pink heel broke all the blades below.
Draco finally broke the quiet. "No, professor. Miss Granger is a pet of mine."
"A pet?" She was baffled by the declaration. As would anyone. A pet is an animal, not a person.
"Granger is here because I asked her. I can assure you, she keeps in line." He flashed that Malfoy brand smile that melted the old witch's heart.
"A bit unorthodox, Mister Malfoy, but splendid work. I find that half breeds are a difficult task to break," she said it with such pride that Hermione nearly snapped a curse designed to remove that tone forever. "Excellent job. Miss Granger, you are a lucky witch to have a wizard such as Mister Malfoy to educate you. Not so many are granted such favor."
Favor?
It was not a favor to be his slave! She was forced with no other choice but to comply on the threat that her best friend would be expelled from school. That was no choice. It was the exact situation that Malfoy planned it to be.
A curse from him that landed her in the hospital wing for a month would be better than the agreement to be his little plaything.
Through the rising vomit and fury that she felt at the back of her throat, she swallowed it back down with a disgustingly sweet smile. Lucky, it seemed to please Draco. He was most engaged in her reaction. Genuine delight spread through his face.
"Thank you, professor." He gripped Hermione's shoulder tightly and pulled her to her feet. "We've got a previous engagement. Will you excuse us?"
They made their way out of the courtyard into an isolated stretch of land just beyond the castle, near the shores of the Black Lake. It was a warm day. Sunlight reflected the indigo hue of the waters as gentle waves beat the bank.
A pair of Hufflepuffs walked past. It was Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. They were the same year as Draco and Hermione and knew very well that the two were not friends. Neither stopped. Their gawking made it clear that they were beyond shocked.
Hermione listened to the rushed footsteps as Hannah and Susan passed.
It would only be a matter of time before Harry and Ron came for her. Hannah was bound to mention it.
"Nice job. Mudblood." His hands clasped behind his back as he walked. "You're doing better than I thought. Must have a bit of pet in you."
Hermione glared. "Don't bet on it."
"Let's cut to the chase, shall we? We haven't got long. The Huffles will have reached your friends by now." Hermione stopped short. He knew. "Don't insult me with that look. I'm fairly aware of your friends in the castle."
That was, confusing.
She narrowed her eyes. "How?"
"Know thy enemy, Granger."
"You consider me your enemy. Interesting. I don't really consider you at all."
He growled. "Don't you?"
"No. Not even after this I won't."
She marched on without him, not caring what he did with himself, until a hold pulled her back by the arm. Sharply.
"Oh, but you mistake me, Granger. I've not asked your permission for all this. It is not a request." His face was a mere centimeter from hers. "You will be my pet. No other will have you. You'll be there for my every whim and obey only me. I'll see to it. There will be no part of you that will not involve me. Your time, your life is mine."
It was a threat. Something turned her blood cold.
Still her Gryffindor courage roared up over the fear that surged. "I'm only doing this so that you don't duel Harry to get him expelled."
"So, you'll agree to my terms?"
Agree was not the right word. There was no choice. She had no options. Any other that left Harry a student of Hogwarts would be better than the current one, but since it didn't present itself, she was stuck.
"As much as I can," she answered.
The hold on her arm lessened. He settled her back down to the ground, brushing the wrinkles off her robes.
She sighed. He snickered.
Caution stalled her breath. "Apparently so."
Out of the corner of her eye, a flicker of red entered view. She gasped. It was Ron. He wore a plain yellow t shirt and a pair of slacks. The stain on his belly spoke for his location when Hannah found him. He raced toward them quickly.
"What? What did I miss?" She snarled.
For once, Ron was swift. He'd be at their throats in a minute.
"I never said I wouldn't duel him." He grinned mischievously. "The excuse for them not to duel me is yours to give. I care not either way."
It was clear he was pleased with himself. His face was smackable in the moment.
Footsteps entered her hearing. Ron was faster than she thought.
"Then I'll just have someone else duel you. Dean and Seamus would be happy to help."
His face darkened. Storm clouds gathered in the gray smoke of his eyes.
"You best have them with you always, Granger. I'll come for you. Always."
"Malfoy!" Ron drew his wand. "What are you playing at?"
Draco slipped his hands into his pockets.
Now came the time for her to decide. It was either Harry's expulsion or put up with Malfoy's controlling asinine behavior. It was meant to be a more difficult decision, but it was more obvious than anything.