Deliver Me

Chapter XVIII – Run


“The damned always have company, and believe me love, you are definitely not far behind,” he said darkly.

“You are the most hysterical person I’ve ever met,” she snapped at him.

“I highly doubt what I do would constitute as hysterical darling,” Severus replied.

“The least you could do is show me some respect. You have some nerve.”

“Indeed,” he answered before hauling her further down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. And when he said nothing, Hermione flung herself sideways and backwards, tumbling them near the Knight’s Wing, lined with centuries’ worth of armor and crests.

The wing was dark and more poorly lit than the rest of the castle at the midnight hour save the few torches the lined old stonewalls.

“Why are you always so difficult?” he inquired when she made a messy thud on top of him.

“You grab me in the middle of the night and drag me to who knows where! Tell me, do you know anyone else who would put up with something that vague?” she screamed trying to get up.

“You never questioned me before,” he told her, standing up.

“As you said, it was before,” she said as he extended his hand to help her up. She pushed it away and got up on her own.

“That seems to be your favorite word this evening. ‘Before,’ before what, Hermione?” he asked her again.

She gave him the silent treatment.

“You barely said two words to me today,” he continued.

She lifted her chin in defiance.

“That’s the way you want it then?” he asked her.

“You dug your own grave,” she spat at him.

“I beg your pardon?” he questioned.

“You know what I mean,” Hermione held.

“If I did, would we be having this conversation?” he informed her.

“What do you think?” she said crossly.

“Isn’t this about what you think? We are talking in circles, do you not know what it is to give straight, blunt answers?” he queried.

“An art you know much too well,” she twisted her face.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“Nothing you can fix,” she barked.

“Oh, but Mister Weasley seems to be able too,” he refuted.

“What?” she narrowed her eyes at him, “You’re being absurd.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you.”

“What is there to see!” she screamed, “You’re completely mad! You’re daft-”

“I beg to differ.”

“-and obtuse and-”

“No.”

“-stubborn and resentful!”

“Are you quite finished?” he asked, loosing whatever patience he had left.

She was silent.

“Don’t lie to me, I know something is going on, I’m not blind. I saw it with my own two eyes,” he accused.

She thought about his words for a minute, then decided to feed the fire, “And what if something is?” she laughed and watched his eyes darken waiting for a reaction.

“Is there?” she was driving him mad; he chose his words carefully and sinisterly. He was hoping to intimidate her. Those days, however, were over.

She folded her arms and looked off to the side, “Well, you see, I don’t know about that. There could be, and then there couldn’t be.”

“There either is or there isn’t.”

“You see it all depends,” she continued.

“On what exactly Madame?” he questioned.

“If you don’t know, then who am I to tell you,” was her answer. She was being cheeky when she answered him, adding a tight smile to the end of her reply.

He rolled his eyes in frustration as she smirked.

“I never knew you were this difficult. Is this a recent development or have you always been a … what is the appropriate muggle term you would understand? Ah yes … a smart ass?” he asked.

“You seem to be full of answers this evening, I applaud you,” and she clapped slowly; mockingly.

He slighted his neck upwards and looked down upon her with ‘that look’ of his. The look that used to make her cringe, turn Ron’s ears pink and make Neville hyperventilate. Now ‘that look’ didn’t make her want to fall inside of herself, no, it made her want to hit him upside the head and yell in his ears until his brains, and the words coming out of his mouth, began to make sense.

“I am not amused by you,” he scoffed.

“I would not have you so,” she said matter-of-factly.

He raised his brows, “Would not have me so?” he repeated.

“Are you getting denser with time? Or need I repeat everything to you?” she snapped.

And then a wicked smile crept to his lips; he looked arrogantly satisfied.

She was getting impatient waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

“What?” Hermione let out a loud sigh and narrowed her eyes at him, “Well?”

“Well what?” he asked monotonously.

“Do you have nothing to say? Say something!”

“You seem to have enough to say for the both of us, and at the moment, I am highly disinclined to acquiesce your request,” he responded condescendingly

“Fine, don’t answer then. But at least have the decency to tell me what you are thinking. That should require no intricate sentences on your part that substitute single words,” she prodded angrily.

“If you must know,” and he waited for a gesture from her.

When she didn’t give one he continued very slowly, “I was just thinking that our children would probably end up in Slytherin, because you seem to be on the way there yourself. With the exception of your whole-hearted stupidity, often mistaken for bravery, of course, you seem to have obtained some very new, and might I add, snake-like traits.”

His words were drone and elongated, she wanted to scream. Rather, her lips parted and her mouth dropped in a mixture of outrage and surprise.

“It is quite impolite to gape, Miss Granger, so unless I’ve grown a second head or a third eye, I would appreciate it if you didn’t. It is not becoming of you,” he said sarcastically crossing his arms over his chest.

She didn’t realize her mouth was open, and closed it, but it couldn’t hide the surprise in her eyes.

And when she failed to respond to him again, he spoke, “Now tell me, is there a reason you are disengaging yourself from me?”

Surprise soon turned to anger, and anger soon turned to resent; she said nothing and walked away. If she said what she really felt at that moment, he might strangle her for sheer pleasure.

She walked for about five minutes before stopping; she was outside the castle around the path to the Quidditch fields. It was part of her rounds to make sure no one was sneaking off to play a game or do more than just snog. Then again, she would have preferred not to walk in on anyone shagging senselessly in the grass.

She turned around, crossed her arms over her chest, and took a deep breath, “Is there a reason you insist in following me in silence?”

He had followed her, cat-like, and silent behind her, with his hands clasped behind his back, looking as if he was observing and evaluating her the whole time.

“Would you rather I followed you in conversation?” he asked drearily.

“I would have favored that you did not follow me at all,” she answered softly, “I’m getting tired of this. First you ignore me. Then you harass me endlessly. Followed by, your habit of ignoring me some more, but that’s not before you wounded me. Next, when it suited you, you almost killed me! And now you are pestering me. I honestly don’t know what to do with you!”

And it started to rain.

“Now look what you’ve done,” she scolded, with no emotion in her voice she looked up at the sky.

“Is it my fault it rains, then?” he asked.

“It’s your fault it rains, then,” was her reply, “Will you ever just leave me alone?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that and when the time comes, you’ll come back to me,” he left her standing there in the rain.

“You can’t walk away from me! I’m not done speaking with you!” she called after him and he continued to walk.

She was so frustrated she wanted to cry, but she didn’t.

It was his fault! Everything was his fault!

He pranced outside and around her as if nothing was wrong, then proceeded to make her out to be the bad one, and after that he left her!

Bloody bastard.

The rain was cold, but it didn’t matter. She looked at her watch and her rounds were almost over. So she decided to take a walk and clear her head.

She did follow the path to the Quidditch pitch and walked in circles around it until she felt better.

Hermione was drenched and now she was tired.

The sun was going to rise soon, but she doubted she would see it, because it was still raining and the sun would be hidden behind the clouds.

She began to walk back towards the castle, and was at the end of the pitch, when she heard a noise.

“Who’s there?” she called out and turned around sticking her wand in the air.

She saw no one.

Maybe I’m hearing things, she thought to herself making her way outside the pitch.

There it was again.

“Hello?” she called out.

No answer.

“This isn’t funny, whoever is there, show yourself, or I’ll deduct every house point you have!” she shouted.

She turned around when she heard breathing behind her and everything went black.

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“This is her,” a voice said.

“So this is what she looks like,” said another.

“Is it there?” asked a third.

“Open her blouse and look you fool,” chewed out the second - the only woman present.

The third, a man, opened Hermione’s blouse and darted his eyes towards her hips looking for something.

“Is it supposed to be large or small? Does it resemble the dark mark?” asked the third.

“Of course not, Master isn’t daft,” shouted the first man angrily, “move and let me look.”

“There, it’s there!” pointed out the woman, who then paused and twisted her head in curiosity.

“What is it?” questioned the first. He was impatient and ran his hand through this long silver blonde hair.

“The mark,” responded the woman, “its fading.”

“It can’t be fading,” stated the first man, “that’s impossible.”

“Well, my dear, it just became possible,” the woman said sarcastically tossing her own blonde hair out of the way, “It seems she’s been administered the beginning concentrations of Snake’s Breath, though I cannot see how. The inner circle is very loyal.”

“What are we going to do?” asked the third sheepishly.

“Oh shut up, it’s not the end of the world. We do as we were told, and that’s it! I shouldn’t even be here, this is servant’s work!” the woman pounced and her husband gave her a deadly look.

She retreated slightly, “Fine, but Bellatrix should be here, not me.”

“She’s busy, deal with it,” answered the husband.

“Can we take her and play with her a little?” asked the third.

The first man and the woman gave the third a look of disgust with killjoy eyes.

“No,” answered the woman in a voice of pure venom, “this is all we came for.”

And they were gone.

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“Oh shut up Ron! I’m so sick and tired of hearing about Fleur and Percy,” yelled Ginny, as Ron, Harry and she were heading to the Quidditch pitch for an early morning run.

“When was the last time I spoke about it?” Ron rebutted.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Oh, I don’t know, only during dinner, study group time, before we went to bed, when we woke up this morning, and now. Bloody hell, Ron, it’s raining and I’m not in the mood to hear it. I mean it’s not like you were sleeping together or anything!”

“Well…” Ron started.

“You’re kidding me?” she exclaimed.

“Way to go, Ron,” shouted Harry, “shagging a veela!”

“Half-veela,” Ginny corrected, “another image I didn’t want in my brain.”

“Used to shag,” Ron added.

“I really don’t want to hear this. If this conversation was about me, I’d be receiving hell and a half from the both of you,” Ginny yelled some more.

“I better not hear this conversation about you, ever,” shrugged Ron uneasily as his little sister gave him an angry look.

“Don’t worry Ronald, I’m still a virgin,” she cooed with sourness in her voice, “for now,” and he didn’t hear the last part.

“Good,” he said in relief, “you’re mood seems to reflect the weather,” he added.

“Don’t preach to me, unless you can join the choir,” she snapped.

“So that’s why you’ve been so cranky about this,” inferred Harry, ignoring Ginny’s whining, “You were sleeping with her.”

Ron continued to look angry.

“So what was it like?” Harry continued, “Sleeping with a veela?”

“Oh Merlin, I don’t want to listen to this,” Ginny proclaimed again.

“Then don’t listen,” Harry shot at her, “You’ve been real testy lately!”

“You’re both ridiculous,” she shouted and pushed off the ground into the air.

No sooner was she up in the air, away from them, did they hear her screams. Ron and Harry looked up and saw her rushing to the ground, running towards something at the other end.

“Good heavens,” she whispered dropping to her knees.

“Ginny, what is it?” Ron asked coming up to her with Harry on his heels.

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“Is she alive?” asked Ginny.

Ron dropped to his knees next to his sister and felt the pulse of the girl on the ground.

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Thank the gods,” Harry murmured.

“Hermione?” Ron nudged.

She didn’t move.

“Ginny, go get Madame Pomfrey,” Harry ordered, “pick her up; let’s go to the castle,” he told Ron.

“Should we move her? Or wait?” he asked.

“Pick her up; we should get out of here. Who or what did that to her, might still be around. Besides, who knows how long she’s been lying in the rain,” Harry suggested, “for all we know, she could well be on her way to hypothermia.”

“I wonder where her ‘protector’ is this morning,” said Ron icily.

“He probably did this to her,” Harry agreed angrily.

“So much for chivalry,” Ron hinted.

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Most of the school was still sleeping, or just waking up, so there wasn’t a sight to be seen in the halls.

As the two boys approached the entrance to the dungeons, and the corridor that led to the hospital, the head of Slytherin appeared and he did notice who was in Ron’s arms.

“What did you do to her?” Severus asked with a voice like acid.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ron spat.

“And I could ask the both of you to hold off until we get to the infirmary,” Harry clashed, leaving all politeness and manners aside, pushing Ron further down the halls.

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“What happened?” asked Madame Pomfrey, once Ron laid Hermione upon a bed and took a seat next to her, with Harry next to him and Snape gazing at her from the edge.

“How did you find her, Mister Weasley?” asked Professor Dumbledore entering with Ginny and Professor McGonagall at his tail.

“Ginny should tell you, she saw her first,” Ron responded.

“Miss Weasley?” asked the Headmaster.

“We were going out for practice before breakfast-”

Snape cut her off, “And why were you out so early, might I ask?”

Ginny looked uneasy, “Well, Ron didn’t show up last night, before dinner for practice, so Madame Hooch let us on to the pitch early this morning to make-up time.”

“Continue,” urged Professor McGonagall, speaking for the first time.

“Well, Harry and Ron were talking. I was disinterested in their conversation so I flew up before them, and was warming up when I spotted what looked like a body at the other end of the pitch. Only when I hit ground did I see clearly who it was,” Ginny explained.

“And when you found her, Miss Weasley?” pushed Severus.

“It had been raining, so she was soaked. Ron took her pulse and then Harry sent me to find you, that’s all,” she told them.

“She seems fine, just cold,” Madame Pomfrey finally assessed, “but I would like to keep her here over night. Just to make sure, of course.”

“Will she be okay?” asked Ron.

“I do believe so, Mister Weasley. It seems as if she was knocked unconscious, but that is it. She should come around soon with nothing more than an anvil headache,” the nurse said.

“Can we wait with her?” asked Harry.

“I don’t see why not. There is an extra chair over there, Miss Weasley, should you care to join them,” Madame Pomfrey said as she lit the fireplace, and finished placing a second blanket upon Hermione.

“I think we would like to wait, too,” interjected Professor McGonagall, referring to herself and Severus, who looked more displeased that usual, and uncommonly worried.

“Very well then,” she said, “Get me when she wakes,” and the nurse was gone.

Sensing hostilities in the air, as well as, her opportunity to get to the bottom of the situation, Ginny spoke up, “I think I should leave too, someone’s waiting for me.”

“Who?” asked Ron darkly.

She was surprised he asked, though she should have expected it, “Just a friend.”

He seemed to accept that answer and she left.

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Ginny hurried back outside to the Quidditch pitch to find the person she was hoping to run into.

As she approached him, he looked ready to pull her into his arms.

“Did you do it?” she asked angrily.

“What the hell are you talking about? No hello, hi, how are you?” he answered with his own question unnerved by her tone.

“Don’t lie to me and don’t change the subject! I saw Hermione here! I found her! She was on the grass, clothes tangled, unconscious and soaking wet!” Ginny put her finger to her lips and slowly calmed down, “I hope you didn’t, but did you…” her voice trailed off, letting her worry show.

“Do you think I did?” he asked her harshly.

“This isn’t about what I think, did you or didn’t you?” her temper flared up again and when he didn’t answer she began to walk away.

Mistake number one, and he knew it, “Ginny, wait!” he called after her.

She shrugged his hands off her shoulders and continued to walk away, “I thought I knew you, you said you changed! Changed my ass! I’m going inside and I’m going to tell them!”

“Will you wait a minute,” he called after her grabbing her arm tightly.

“Let go of me or I’ll hex you,” she shouted.

“Ginny, I didn’t do it,” he finally told her.

She gave him a look of disbelief.

“I swear I didn’t,” he tried again, “I swear on Salazar’s grave I didn’t.”

“But I gather you know who did?” Ginny asked.

He was silent.

”Well?” she prodded.

His eyes pierced her and her stomach dropped. She hadn’t feared him until that moment. He looked deadly. The paleness of his skin and the narrowness of his face made her uneasy.

“I do,” he answered softening his voice, darting his eyes into the cloudy, watered sky.

She paused and thought of her words carefully, “I’m sorry, I doubted you.”

He didn’t look at her.

“I can’t change what I am, Ginerva, only who I am,” he told her icily.

“Will you tell me?” Ginny asked.

“We’re in way over our heads, if I tell you, the web we weave will only grow more tangled,” he responded.

“What am I suppose to do?” she questioned.

He looked at her then, “Nothing. You can’t do anything at all. We’re not even supposed to be having this conversation. I’m not even supposed to be with you!”

She jumped back when he yelled, “Fine, I knew this was going to happen! You’ll never change. You’re just like the rest of them, no matter how much you say you aren’t, you are! And just remember, you came to me first!”

He felt her hand strike his face and when he blinked she was already running back to the castle.

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“I think the two of you should join the other students at breakfast,” Professor McGonagall told Harry and Ron about a half hour after Ginny left, “Let’s go, Severus. Madame Pomfrey will notify us when she awakens.”

And the old lady ushered three angry gentlemen out of the hospital wing, into the Great Hall.

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Harry and Ron were talking when Ginny arrived in the Great Hall. She was clearly agitated, but neither one of them seemed to notice just how much.

“Did you go back outside?” Ron asked seeing that she was wetter.

“I thought I forgot something,” she answered. Her eyes were red and her voice seemed hoarse.

“You okay?” Harry asked her.

“Why, do I seem like I’m not okay?” she snapped.

“Relax, I was just asking,” he retorted.

“Did you find your friend?” Ron asked, buttering a piece of toast.

“I don’t ask you about your life, so bloody hell stay out of mine!” she slammed her hand on the table and walked out of the hall.

“That went well,” said Harry.

“Wonder what has her knickers in knots,” contemplated Ron out loud.

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Hermione awoke in the hospital wing alone.

She sat up on the bed and immediately felt a throbbing pain lance through her head. Her head felt heavy and she had to blink a couple times to get things into focus.

“Glad to see you are up, Miss Granger,” Madame Pomfrey said, putting a tray on the bedside table.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You don’t remember?” questioned the nurse.

Hermione thought about it for a second, “I was at the Quidditch Pitch finishing my rounds, and I heard a noise. I thought it was a couple of students fooling around, but then no one answered, so I thought I was hearing things, and then … and then …well,” she looked up at the nurse, “that’s it. I don’t remember anymore.”

“Well, you’ll be okay dear, just a bump on the head. But you were out in the cold rain, longer than you should have been. So I would like to keep you here tonight, alright?” Madame Pomfrey told her.

Hermione nodded.

“Good girl, I brought you a sandwich, cookies, and a cup of tea. Eat up, and rest, I’ll check up on you a little later.”

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“Severus, she’ll be fine,” Professor McGonagall told Snape at the breakfast table.

He had just watched Ginny Weasley come in.; she was further soaked than he remembered, which struck him as odd; she threw a fit and stormed out.

Gryffindor tempers, Gryffindor women; they’re all the same.

“You don’t understand,” his words were low and callous.

“What don’t I understand exactly?” the old lady asked just as harshly.

He raised a brow, and relaxed a bit, “I’m sorry, Minerva, that was wrong of me.”

She nodded.

“Minerva, I was with Hermione last night,” he admitted.

“With her how?” she asked.

“For Merlin’s sake, not like that! I ran into her while she was doing her rounds! We had a little argument and I left her standing at the pitch,” Severus said, “its all my fault.”

“Why didn’t you insist that she come inside with you?” Minerva questioned.

“We had an argument; I wasn’t thinking,” there was a type of tenderness in his voice. Something she hasn’t heard for sometime.

“Well, she is alright, Severus, no harm done,” and the old lady turned to speak with Albus, leaving Severus to contemplate on his own.

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“So, did I tell you what happened when I went to the ministry with Blaise?” Ron asked Harry a couple hours later as they headed towards Potions.

“Do I want to know?” Harry inquired.

“Yes, you do,” he answered.

“Then do tell,” Harry urged.

“We talked,” Ron started.

“You talked?” Harry looked unamused.

“Well, we didn’t just talk! Well, we did, but for a Slytherin, she’s pretty neat,” Ron defended.

“Are we talking about the same Blaise then?” asked Harry.

“As Hermione said, ‘red hair, green eyes and bitch written all over,’ yes,” Ron told him.

“Don’t you find replacements quickly,” Harry smirked.

“What do you mean – oh no, not like that. Fleur broke my heart,” he shielded.

Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m so sure she did. Your relationship with her was solely based on sex; I highly doubt she broke your heart. More like she broke your ego. Hermione was your last ‘real’ relationship.”

Ron made a face as they entered the dungeons.

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The Potions Master was his usual blissful self and the session ended as torturous as it always began.

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“Do you think we can see Hermione this afternoon?” Ginny asked Harry and Ron, when she ran into them after double Potions, on their way to the Great Hall to study before lunch.

“We just ran into McGonagall; she said Hermione’s fine. We can see her tonight if we want too,” Ron answered.

“Well, aren’t you more cheery,” Harry said cynically, referring to Ginny’s mood, contrary to the morning.

“Shut it,” she smiled a little.

As they passed the Slytherin table, Ginny noticed ‘he’ gave her a foul look.

“Fuck you,” she spat at the entire table, aiming specifically for that one person, but it was lost in translation.

The Slytherins sat in surprise, while Harry and Ron couldn’t hide the bewilderment from their faces.

Sweet Ginny wasn’t being very sweet.

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They sat down at the Gryffindor table.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ron reprimanded, another mood change, “You aren’t PMS-ing are you?”

“Ron, gods no! What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you? It’s about time someone put them in their place,” she barked.

“Yea Gin, I know, but there’s a time and a place, and I hate to say it, but that was uncalled for,” Ron continued.

“Just shut up Ron, I’m not in the mood for it,” she said crossly and poured herself a cup of tea. No less than a couple seconds after she poured it, she got up, took her tea and left.

“It’s official; something’s up with her,” Ron inferred, “I don’t think its PMS though.”

“You think?” Harry said sarcastically, “Hermione dates a Slytherin and Ginny’s turning into one, it’s a perfect world, no?”

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Hermione sat up in her bed and gazed out the window, it was beginning to get dark. Everyone was probably at dinner. Was Severus at dinner? She needed to speak with him. Even though she promised herself she’s never go back. This wasn’t going back; she did need to speak with him. It was truly important.

She looked around the room and saw her night robe lying on a chair; she picked it up and headed out the door.

Hermione reached the entrance to the dungeons and changed her mind. She didn’t want to risk running into any Slytherins, so she ended up heading for her room.

Once inside, she took some floo powder in her hands and stepped into the fireplace.

She knew his password, and she could get into his chambers.

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Hermione tumbled into Severus’ study to find it empty and lit by no more than five candles in various places around the room. They gave the room an illustrious glow about it, very magical.

She stood up and dusted herself off.

She looked around some more, making sure he wasn’t hiding in the shadows somewhere, ready to jump out of nowhere and scare her half to death.

He wasn’t there. He was probably at dinner and she knew it.

Hermione stepped into his hall and looked around. Everything looked the same as she remembered it. Even though it wasn’t actually that long ago, it just felt like it.

She thought the better of herself and walked back into his study. She took a seat on his large chair behind his desk. Lined in, what looked like, tight black silk and leather, with a high back and two distinct arms, shaped like snakes. At the end of each arm were two emeralds and an illusive fire looking tongue. When she touched one of the tongues her fingers went right through it.

“Interesting,” she thought aloud.

She never actually realized how large his chambers actually were. He had his bathroom in his bedroom, which was large on its own. The bedroom was larger if she included the bathroom, which she swore could fit at least ten people. And then there was his drawing room, which was almost like his study, just without books. What did he use his drawing room for anyhow? It wasn’t like he ever entertained anyone. He also had a small kitchen. Compared to the Hogwarts kitchen it was small, but in reality it looked like the size of her kitchen at home; wide, airy and spacious. Lots of room for china, and a bar type table, with stools that connected to the countertops. Did he drink a lot? There were bottles and bottles of wine lined from the floor to the ceiling next to the china cabinet. Most of them were filled and half of them were more than four times her age. Did he collect wine? What a strange hobby. But that wasn’t it, next to the wine bottles, was another shelf purely filled with harder liquors…and fire whiskey. Fire Whiskey. Never again, her and fire whiskey. And his fridge, how ridiculous, an old fashioned three door one, fully stocked.

Really, did the man actually have to go to the Great Hall three times a day? She didn’t see the need for it.

The sky was getting darker outside, where was he? Hermione felt like she had been waiting for him for at least an hour.

She occupied herself by reading one of his books, but still, regardless of how interested she was in it, she was more interested in speaking with him.

Hermione soon grew tired of the book in her hand and moved over towards his shelves to choose another one.

She climbed up his ladder and set her eyes towards the ninth shelf to the top.

The Colors of Magic, she read. Magic has colors, she wondered.

“Sounds fascinating,” she said out loud and reached for it, stretching her arm out further than she should have.

Before she knew it, she lost balance, but didn’t hit the ground.

“It’s very fascinating,” Severus said with his arms around her, “pray tell why aren’t you in the hospital wing, where you very well should be?”


A/N: "...disinclined to acquiesce your request ..." – Pirates of the Caribbean – Curse of the Black Pearl, conversation between Elizabeth and Barbosa, I love old English. It always sounds tasteful. Complicated sentences meaning the simplest things!