Evening Schnapps

A/N:

J.K. Rowling is the owner of all except specific characters, situations, and plot bunnies that are unique to this story. I make no money, but lots of satisfaction from taking out her characters and playing with them for a while before putting them back.

Many thanks to my ubber-beta SignoraAligheri, and my sweetie Evan! They just prove that you really can’t do anything in this world without people looking out for you.

So, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and here we go!


Chapter 11

Severus woke still on the couch in his sitting room. As he lay there, he waited to sit up until he had assessed his condition. He felt that the nausea had passed, and cautiously opened his eyes. The pain wasn’t as bad as the night before, but he could still feel the ache. His head felt heavy, disconnected from his body, but the pain was not too bad.

He sat up.

A strong, sharp pain moved up his neck and into his skull. Wincing, he struggled to remain upright. Finally, after holding still for a few minutes, the pain receded and he could tolerate trying to move again. He stood up and grabbed the fireplace mantle for support. The sharp pain moved up his neck and into his skull again, but again, after holding still for a few moments, he found he could push through it.

He walked to the small side bathroom and opened the tap. He began to bend over, but the minute change in elevation caused the pain level to spike. Finally, he settled for wetting his fingertips and dragging them over his eyes and lips. He patted his face down with a towel and looked in the mirror.

‘You look like hell,’ he thought to himself.

He moved over and relieved the pressure that the Firewhiskey had caused during the night, and then began the journey up to the Great Hall.

Once he reached his customary seat and pushed the pain level by lowering himself into the chair, he caught Minerva gazing at him. Scowling, he reached for a pitcher of cream for his coffee, waiting for her to look away.

“Severus?”

‘No such luck,’ he thought.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall?” he growled. As he turned to look her in the eye, he kept his neck stiff, trying to mask the pain the action caused.

“Severus,” she said, “are you feeling well?”

“Yes. I am fine,” he said and he watched as the Headmistress’ eyes hardened.

“No, Severus,” she said with an air of easy superiority, “it is plain to see that you are not. How long have you been ill?”

He sighed, this was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. McGonagall in ‘mothering’ mode.

“Professor,” he ground out, trying to summon the strength to appear fit. “I assure you, I am fine. The only thing that is currently bothering me is your insistence that I am not. Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to prepare for my classes.” He tried to stand up, but the sudden effort caused another intense flash of pain, and he was unable to complete the move.

“No Severus,” he heard the older witch stand up, “you are certainly not fine. You are going to take the day off and get some rest. I will arrange for your classes to be covered. You will either go to the hospital wing, or you will return to your quarters, but rest you will. This is an order, Severus, and I will not tolerate insubordination.”

As he sat there, weighing his options. He suddenly found himself thankful for his habit of an early breakfast, as there were hardly any students in the hall to witness this embarrassment.

He braced himself and stood, soaking the intense wave of pain and facing the Headmistress.

“I will go lay down, but tell me first; who will teach my classes today?”

Minerva sighed, “I think Professor Granger will do. I will cover her Transfigurations classes today.”

Severus growled and glared at the gray-haired woman. His pride still stung from his encounter with Granger the night before.

He turned on his heel and stalked from the hall, not even bothering to make a snide comment.

--------

Hermione sat in her sitting room, sipping her coffee and nibbling on a plate of blintzes and fresh berries that the house elves had procured for her. After his nastiness the previous night, she was in no mood to sit with Professor Snape this morning. So, she sat and ate in the quiet of her room. It was easy mornings like this when she missed Crookshanks. He used to curl up on the couch, leaning up against her thigh and purring. He had been a fairly nasty animal to almost everyone but herself.

‘Cantankerous,’ she mused. ‘Cantankerous, but lovable.’

She smiled and took another sip of her coffee. A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come,” she called, unwarding the door with a wave of her wand, so that the guest could enter.

“Good morning, Professor Granger,” Minerva called as she entered the room. “I see you chose to dine in this morning.”

‘Professor Granger?’ Hermione wondered what the emergency was, as the older witch always addressed her in the familiar when they were alone.

“I simply desired quiet this morning, Professor.” Hermione didn’t want to breach Professor Snape’s privacy and searched for a handy excuse. “I shouldn’t have had that last scotch last night.”

Minerva looked at her over her glasses for a moment, and then proceeded to tell her about the changes in teaching schedule and the reasons for them.

Hermione tried to hide her frown, as she wondered just how badly Snape had fared overnight. ‘Still,’ she thought, ‘he did actually make it to breakfast, so he can’t be that bad.’

“Of course,” she smiled at the Headmistress, “am I correct in assuming that Professor Snape will have left a lesson plan in case of his absence?” All of the Professors were asked to keep a lesson plan, or at least an outline, in their desk, should anything untoward ever happen.

The Headmistress nodded.

“Yes, but you should be aware that Hogwarts has traditionally extended the courtesy to professors covering classes, to teach as they see fit.” Minerva looked over her glasses and raised an eyebrow at her, “Hermione, this means that you need not follow Severus’ lesson plan, nor his teaching style.”

Hermione knew that the witch respected the man, but that she hated his teaching style. The older professor was a stern taskmistress herself, but she had a manner that let children know that she genuinely cared for them and was concerned about their welfare. She knew that Snape’s cruel, harsh manner irked the Headmistress, because it lacked the ability to convey that sentiment. Hermione, of course, wondered if that sentiment actually existed in the heart of the Potions Master. She, after all, had felt the sting of his cruelness on many occasions.

“Alright, I’ll look over his plans and make a decision before his first class. What is his schedule today?” They spent about twenty minutes discussing the schedule for the day over a cup of coffee, before Minerva left to attend to other matters.

-------

Severus woke in his dark rooms. He was in bed, and had the sense that he had slept for some time. He waited to move until his brain had finished its assessment of his condition. Oddly, he didn’t feel any of the warning signs that the pain would lance through him if he moved. So, he sat up on the bed slowly. There was a disconcerting ache in the muscles of his neck and at the base of his skull, but no real pain. He slid his long legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

‘Still no pain,’ he marveled.

He had fallen asleep after returning from breakfast fully dressed. He wrinkled his nose at his robes and undressed as he moved to the large bath attached to his bedroom. He was thankful that he had been able to fall asleep naturally, and didn’t have to resort to drinking until he passed out. Over the years, he had found that sleeping draughts didn’t help when the pain was intense. The eerie ache was a little worrisome, but it didn’t seem to be spreading or intensifying as he moved around.

He turned the taps to the tub and moved over to the toilet. He was a bit surprised by the volume his bladder contained. When he finished, he returned to the tub and turned off the taps, stepping in and sinking into the deep warm water.

“Ahhh,” he sighed as the water eased the ache at the back of his head. He relaxed his body and let himself float free in the soothing liquid. His taps were charmed to add substances from his potions stores that the bath determined that he needed. Inhaling the scent, he closed his eyes and lazily assessed the contents of the tub. There were oils of peppermint, ginger, cedar, grapefruit, cinnamon and fir. But, he sensed something else. Frowning, he tried to identify the final substance.

He lifted his hand out of the water and brought his fingers to his nose. Inhaling, there was a very faint bitterness under the warm scents of the cinnamon, cedar and fir, the muskiness of the ginger, and the sharp note of peppermint, but he still couldn’t quite place it. He allowed the tip of his tongue to press lightly against a wet fingertip. The oil from the grapefruit rind numbed his tongue, dulling that sense.

Finally, he dipped his cooling fingers back into the warm water and brought them back up. He rubbed his thumb in a circle over the pads of his other four fingertips. The friction on the whorls of his fingerprints was slightly reduced, as if something were lubricating them.

“Comfrey,” his voice echoed through the bath. Sighing again he arched his back and immersed his face in the healing water. He stayed underwater for a few long minutes, feeling the warmth relax the muscles in his face, and listening to the muffled sounds of the water pressing against his eardrums. The bath had selected a blend of warming, energizing and healing substances, and he was thankful once again that Professor Flitwick had thought of the charms to place on the bath taps.

Sitting up, he reached for a bowl of aritha powder that sat on the edge of the tub. He dipped his hands in the water and transferred some to the bowl, stirring it with his fingers. He waited for the red powder to bloom and foam, and lifted the bowl and poured the rust-colored frothy liquid over his hair. After letting it sit, he ducked his head back under the water and rinsed the grainy mixture out of his hair. Reaching back, he ran his fingers through the long hairs suspended in the water. They swirled around his hands and he spread his fingers through them feeling the last of the aritha fall away from the hair. When he was satisfied that his hair was clean, he sat back up.

Standing up from the tub, he picked up a large towel and began to dry himself, as he stepped out onto the stone floor.

‘I should get to dinner,’ he thought. ‘If I make an appearance, looking presentable, Minerva won’t be tempted to have my classes taught by a girl, who has undoubtedly spent the day wasting the time of the children in my care.’

--------

Hermione sat at her desk, looking sternly at the tall blonde boy before her.

“I really don’t know why you feel the need to antagonize each other, Tybalt.” She turned to the other dark-haired boy and looked at him. Maddox sat glaring at her, she could see that he was convinced that she would treat him unfairly, because he was fighting with one of her precious Gryffindors, and he was a Slytherin. Sighing, she turned back to the Gryffindor boy.

“Ten points will be taken, from each of you, for hexing fellow students. Dueling is not allowed and you should both be ashamed at yourselves for your behavior. It reflects poorly on both of your Houses and on yourselves.” She looked over at Maddox again, noting the look of surprise at the light sentence, and watched his eyes shift quickly to the boy beside him and a hint of a smirk crossed his face, before returning to watch her.

“Both of you will have detention with me next Tuesday night. You will be here at 6 o’clock sharp. Understand?” She watched as the boys scowled, they had obviously thought that the light penalty precluded detention.

“Understand?” she repeated firmly and watched as they both nodded. “Alright then, you may both go to the hospital wing and see Madam Pomfrey. Be sure to hurry, or you will miss dinner.”

She watched as the boys walked out of her office. After she was sure they couldn’t hear her, she burst out laughing. Tybalt had hit Maddox with an antler jinx, and the boy had lovely 7-point rack arching up above his head. Maddox, in turn had hit Tybalt with two hexes before Hermione had arrived at the scene. She arrived just in time to hear Maddox shout ‘DENSAUGEO!’, adding insult to the previously cast Twitchy Ears Hex, and she had been hard pressed for the past half hour to keep from laughing at Tybalt. The sight of the normally handsome boy with wiggling, twitching ears and huge rodent teeth were almost more than she could stand.

-------

Severus walked through the dark, quiet back halls to the rear entrance of the Great Hall. As he opened the door and stepped out into the Hall for dinner, he was brought to sudden halt by the sight in front of him.

Sunlight streamed in through the leaded glass windows, and the scents of bacon, eggs, biscuits, hot chocolate and coffee assaulted his nose. He looked around the room, scowling at the laughing students who were enjoying their meals. He moved over to the Head Table and sat in his customary seat. He looked around the hall again, wondering how he could have slept through 24 hours without realizing it.

“Glad to see you are feeling better, Severus.”

He looked over and saw the Headmistress looking down the table at him. He nodded at her and turned back to the hall. Frowning, he gave another glance around before pouring some cream in a cup of coffee and took a bit of toast the rack.

After a few bites of toast, he suddenly realized that he was very hungry. Reaching over his plate, he began to load coddled eggs and herbed potatoes onto it. As he took his first bite, he was pleased, the eggs were wonderful, and the potatoes were light and flavorful. He ate a full plate, unusual for him as he ordinarily ate sparingly in the mornings, not having much of an appetite after drinking himself into oblivion and out of pain every night.

He felt someone sit in the seat next to him and looked up to see Professor Granger. Scowling, he finished his coffee. He didn’t even want to think about yesterday. She would have set back each of his classes by an entire day this term. A whole day wasted! He would have to push his dunderheads all the harder during the rest of the term. There were some clever students in some of his classes this year, but like all years, they had no focus. He had to keep on them at all times.

“Professor,” she said, “are you feeling better?”

“I am here Miss Granger,” he said impatiently, “that alone should answer your question.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked at the witch next to him. Sometimes, it felt like he was the only one in the entire Wizarding World who paid attention. He sighed.

“Why would you ask that? Is it not apparent by the very fact at I am awake and here that all I needed was a simple day of rest?” he grumbled at her.

She just stared at him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Severus, she took a deep breath. He impatiently waited as she collected her thoughts.

“Professor, you have been out for the last three days. The Headmistress had to have Dumbledore’s portrait go and check on you. He said that you were sleeping and he didn’t think we should worry. But I saw you Tuesday night. I know how much pain you were in. What was causing it? Why wouldn’t you go see Poppy? Why did you need to sleep for three days before you felt better?”

Severus looked at her for several long minutes. Finally, he stood up and walked out of the hall without a word.

-------

Hermione crossed the courtyard, thankful for the package that had arrived for her after Snape had left. Madam Malkin had sent one of the shops large owls to return her jacket. She had the warm fleece on under her robes. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the cold January wind cut through almost every set of robes she had.

“Gather round,” she called to the third year students huddled up against the wall. They were doing their best to keep warm, while they waited to go on to the little town below. They had been earlier in the year, but this was their first time under her care, so she had told them they needed to go as a group, with her accompanying them.

“We will travel down together,” she told them. “Once we get to Hogsmeade, your time will be your own. While we are there, you will do well to remember that your actions reflect on this school. You will gather on the corner outside of the Three Broomsticks at 3 o’clock sharp. From there, we will make our way back.”

She looked around at the group of eager faces, and watched as, upon her permissive nod, they turned en masse and started down the road. Huddled together in small groups, they made their way down the hill against the cold winter wind. There was a storm coming, she expected it would arrive before dinner.

‘But,’ she thought, ‘not until after we get back to the castle.’

------

Severus sat in his lab, staring at the pile of research notes that had been sitting on the table since before the Christmas holiday.

‘Three days?’ he wondered. ‘How could I have slept through three days?’

He knew that the headache had hit an all time high, this time around. He had experienced nausea before, but not to the extent of this round. He had lived through the disorienting effects, but could not remember a time when it was so bad that he had actually fainted.

After leaving the Great Hall, he had come down to his labs trying to find an answer. Granger’s comment at the table had shaken him badly. He was sure that he had only slept a few hours, not a few days.

He settled down to spend a day in the lab. The headache was gone today, but experience told him it could return at any time. He might have a few weeks, a few days, or even just a few hours before it returned.

He started organizing his scattered notes. When he had left his lab the last time, the pain had come suddenly and he tried to work through it. Unfortunately, that meant that as the pain intensified, he became more disoriented. He had mixed and scattered his usually meticulous notes until there was no order to them.

‘At this rate,’ he thought, ‘I’ll be at this all day, and won’t make any new progress.’

He had been trying for years to solve the pain. The first few times it happened, he had tried the usual potions. He found that none worked very well. He would get only weak and temporary relief from the strongest draughts. He had finally gone to Poppy, but she wasn’t able to find anything better, and only gave him grief about his heavy drinking.

The drinking was the only thing that seemed to help. But Severus wasn’t stupid. He knew that it wasn’t the solution, only a means to mask the symptoms.

He had embarked on a mission to find a potion that would work. He had experimented with ingredients that deadened nerves, and those that deadened senses. Severus found that those were the worst. The potions he tried that contained any measure of those left him feeling dizzy and thick. He was unable to think straight, but the pain was still there, he just didn’t care about it.

Abandoning that line of research, he had turned to cooling salves. He was able to rub them across his temples and forehead, and continue on with his day. However, the stronger pain took a stronger concentration of ingredients for the salve. After a certain point, he was as focused on the intense cold on his face and the remaining pain in his head, as he had been on the original pain. He still used the salves when it wasn’t very bad, but kept up on his research.

For the past year, he had been at an impasse, unable to proceed without understanding what the cause was. He looked over at his cauldron, where it sat collecting dust. His research had been reduced to reviewing potions and medical books he ordered via owl.

Scowling, he rubbed his eyes and looked down at the parchment he was holding. It was transcribed notes from some patient files at St Mungo’s. This one piece of parchment had done more to convince Severus to keep his mouth tightly shut about his headaches than anything else.

The Medi-Wizards notes documented three different patients. All three witches had been complaining about headaches with the severity and symptoms that matched Severus’ own. In each case, the entries in the chart indicated that the Medi-Wizard in charge had diagnosed them with a form of hysteria. The scribbled notes stated that the pain was made up by the witches in a bid to gain attention, and that they were convinced that the pain was real.

“Hysteria,” Severus growled at the page. “Not bloody likely.”

Sighing, he looked at the clock on the wall. It was well past 1 o’clock. He had been down here for hours. He realized that he needed a break, and perhaps some fresh air. He thought he might stop by his classroom and see if Professor Granger had left any record of the mess she had made of his classes.

-------

Hermione sat in the Three Broomsticks next to a warm fire and sipped butterbeer. She and Madam Rosemerta had spent some time catching up. The older witch had remembered Hermione the moment she walked in the door. It was a slow day, only being a few weeks after the holidays. There were only a few regulars. The students were still out spending their Knuts at Honeydukes and Zonko’s. She expected them to find their ways here for a quick warm up, before heading out for a second round of shopping. She remembered the excitement of Hogsmeade weekends in her third year. Once she was older, they were still nice, but she had so many worries that she rarely enjoyed them to their fullest. Today, sitting in the friendly place and enjoying a fire suited her just fine.

“Professor Granger?”

She looked up to see Polly Kyzanski standing next to her.

“Professor Granger,” she said again. “I don’t feel very well.”

Hermione looked at he decidedly green face and reached out to feel her forehead.

“Oh dear,” Hermione said, “you have a fever, Miss Kyzanski, and a high one at that. Let’s get you back to the castle. We’ll take you to Madam Pomfrey, she’ll take care of you.” She stood up and steered the little girl towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” she called back to Madam Rosemerta. Stepping out into the street, she looked down and placed her arm around the shivering girl. “Hold on, this is going to feel a little weird.”

With that she Apparated back to the gates of the school with Polly in tow, and began walking the girl towards the hospital wing. After getting her settled within the domain of the protective and caring Madam Pomfrey, she laughed as Poppy shooed her out to return to the students in Hogsmeade.

When she walked out of the castle and onto the grounds, she stopped for a moment. The cloud cover had rolled in; darkening the skies and making the wind seem that much more bitter. It was cutting right through her robes and the fleece she wore underneath. Feeling a shiver cut through her she looked down the hill towards Hogsmeade.

‘Well,’ she thought, ‘it must be near 3 o’clock. I’d better get moving.’

--------

Severus walked around the lake, reveling in the cold, cutting wind. He loved the feeling of the wind lifting his hair and pulling at his heavy robes. There was a storm moving in, and the heavy clouds painted the sky a hundred different shades of gray. The black water of the lake was rippled as the wind ruffled its surface. He looked down the valley, marveling at the play of light and dark, in the sky, on the lake and in the snow covered hills.

As he moved along, Severus mulled over what he had found in the drawer of his desk in the Potions classroom. When had he left his lab and walked to his classroom, he felt sure that Professor Granger would have made a mess of things over the previous three days. It was bad enough that he couldn’t trust anyone to teach Potions well for one day, but three seemed insurmountable. How would he ever get the children caught up? Potions was a difficult enough subject without interruptions, but he couldn’t simply skip over a section. If they didn’t learn each segment of his class, they would never be able to function. Worse, they could be blind to potential disasters.

When he had sat at his desk and opened the drawer where he kept his lesson plan, it was not there. In it’s place, were a stack of parchments. He had looked over each one, and had sat at his desk stunned for several minutes.

Severus turned and looked down towards Hogsmeade. The young Transfigurations professor had followed his lesson plan exactly. She had assigned the essays, taught the lessons, evaluated the student’s sample potions and graded the finished essays. In fact, she had even graded them as harshly as he would have, and still left them for him to review instead of handing them back. In other words, she had taught his classes to his satisfaction. He could find no complaint, no protest, not even a grumble to fling at her.

As he made his way around the far side of the lake, he thought about the few days he had spent with her over the holiday. Her company had been pleasant. Even in the times she was yelling at him, he still found that he enjoyed her company. At the time, he had simply assumed it was because he wasn’t contending with the ever-present headaches. Now, with some distance between them, he realized that it was simply that she had grown up into a strong, cunning and brave young woman. Her raw intelligence had been honed into a sharp tool, useful and clever, but also perceptive and educated.

As he returned towards the castle, he looked up and spotted an eagle flying far above. He watched as it fought the wind and worked its way off in the direction of Hogsmeade.

‘Odd,’ he thought, ‘we don’t usually see eagles this time of year.’

-------

Hermione walked past the train station in Hogsmeade and down the road to the Three Broomsticks. It was 3 o’clock and there was a crowd of third year Gryffindors milling about. She did a quick head count and found that all were there.

“Very well, students,” she called over their conversations. “Thank you for being on time. We will now head back up the hill and get our things put away before dinner. Once we reach the castle, I ask that you keep your sense of decorum on your way to your Tower. I will need to check on Miss Kyzanski.

They all bundled their robes tighter around their arms and began the long walk back up the hill. The wind was at their back, so that helped keep the students moving up at a good clip. The temperature had dropped considerably in the past few minutes. Hermione looked up as the first snow began to fall. It was grapple, a cold weather snow that looked like tiny white beads, bouncing off of her robes and rolling along the path in drifts as the wind gusted. The storm front had arrived. If they were lucky, they’d get back into the shelter of the castle before the heavy snow began to fall.

She moved along behind the students, making sure the there were no stragglers to get left behind and lost in the storm. But everyone kept together and moved quickly. The promise of warmth and dinner was more motivating than the Professor behind them. As they crossed the courtyard and made their way inside, the storm opened up and sent the heavy snow falling on their heads.

------

Severus stalked through the halls. He had sat at the Head Table and waited for Professor Granger to arrive. He was determined to thank her for covering his classes so well, but she never arrived. So, he decided to go find her. Her Gryffindors were at dinner, so they had returned from Hogsmeade safely. None of them had looked nervous or worried in the slightest, so he was sure she had come back safely as well.

As he walked into her classroom, he was brought up short by the sight in front of him. Sitting on a perch, next to the young professor’s desk, was a large eagle. He looked around and didn’t see any sign of Professor Granger. Finally, he walked over to the perch and looked at the bird. It was the same golden brown eagle from the forest, or one that looked remarkably similar. It must be her pet.

“I have a message for Professor Granger,” he addressed the bird, not sure if it was intelligent. “If I write it out, will you take it to her?”

The eagle looked at him with huge copper eyes, and lowered its head, giving a high-pitched chittering sound. Taking it as a good sign. Severus walked around the desk and opened the top drawer. He found a quill and parchment. In the next drawer down, he found ink and a ribbon, and sat to draft a note. When he was finished, he cast a drying charm over the ink and rolled the parchment.

Walking back around to the perch, he looked at the bird. He eyed the sharp beak and long talons, knowing that if he had read the eagle’s behavior wrong, and it was not an intelligent animal that had agreed to carry a letter, then he could lose a finger. Instead of reaching for the leg, he held the rolled scroll out to the eagle to see what it would do. He breathed a sigh of relief when the eagle extended a leg and allowed him to tie it on. He stepped back and watched as the huge bird jumped off the perch and flapped out the open door, out into the corridor that surrounded a small courtyard. He would just have to wait to see if she took up his offer.

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A/N:

Oh dear. I’m so sorry it’s been a week and a half since I’ve updated! I’ve been swamped between work and school, and then my parents came for a visit, too. Thank you all for your patience and wonderful support. This has been a fun story to write, and there is so much more coming.

Kris- I’m not saying! *wink* Sorry you had to wait for this chapter, how it was worth the wait!

Emmylovedraco- hehe, glad you like it.

Bill- Yeah, if I skipped a lecture to write, she’d probably slap me!

Ruby wolf- You are giving me the warm fuzzies! Thanks!

Karen- I agree! Rowling has said over and over that Snape was based on a nasty teacher she had as a child. Well… even nasty, rude, mean teachers got that way over time. Let’s face it, your average rat bastard doesn’t grow up and say ‘gee, I think I’ll be a teacher and spend my days with kids that I hate.’ Anyhow, glad you approve!

Anya- thank you, sorry for the delay.

Amsev- *blush* Keeping everyone in character was number one on my list as I began developing the story.

Vampire_Exotica- Heeheeheee! *jumping up and down* Yay! Pleasing the challenger is so very cool! As for Ashwinder, my beta has already been pestering me along those lines, and I fully plan to. Busy? Film? I understand both! I’m pulling 16 units, plus working a 40 hour a week job, and my ex-husband is a grip, he does about 8-10 films a year. I just love that you read, approve AND review occasionally; it’s an extra special treat!