Deliver Me

Chapter XX – Possession, Shadow of a Man


“You can’t open the letters!” Ginny shrieked.

“Okay, okay, fine. I won’t open them – yet,” Harry told her just to calm her down.

The girl flopped back in exhaustion, breathing hard against her brother’s chest.

“You want to tell us why you’ve suddenly turned nutter?” Ron asked, loosening his grip on her as he felt her body relax.

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Hermione walked back to the Gryffindor Tower. Against her better judgment she decided to skip class.

“Pax Decorum,” she told the picture who looked unusually angry.

“It’s nice to see someone with a little respect,” she heard it say as the portrait hole closed behind her.

The walk up to her room was slow and tedious.

When she entered, the candles lit themselves. For the past couple of days she didn’t want bright or natural light, it was too glaring for her liking. The candles were soft and easy on her eyes. They relaxed her and made her everyday, crazed, over complusive thinking process easier.

Hermione undressed and walked into her Head Girl private bathroom. Again, the candles lit themselves, and she slipped into a warm tub of water.

The water felt good, hot and thin. She slid under it until she couldn’t breathe then she came up for air.

When Hermione came out of the bathroom, there was a package on her bed. It was wrapped in red paper with a card on top. She assumed the house elves left it there while she was bathing. Hermione opened the card, to find it blank, with the exception of one word: ‘possession.’

That was odd.

She unwrapped the package to find a small brown box. She removed the lid and inside was a stemless rose. It was a dark, blood red, stemless rose. So dark it almost looked black.

“My day just keeps getting better and better,” she thought out loud.

Rather than slipping into her school clothes to head out to lunch and continue the rest of the day, she slipped into gray, muggle, yoga pants and a tee-shirt. She hopped into her bed, and waved her hand, extinguishing all but one candle. She promptly fell asleep.

Why was she always so tired? It wasn’t normal.

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“Are you sure?” Ron asked Ginny.

“Would I lie?” she snapped.

“Don’t go on getting all bitchy again; what did we ever do to you?” Harry butted in.

“Yeah, what’s the matter with you?” Ron added.

“Nothing, just get those letters to McGonagall to look at before you do anything else,” she covered.

“I’ll go now,” said Harry, getting off his bed and heading for the door.

When it closed and he was gone, Ginny got up to leave, “Don’t you dare move.” Ron’s voice was an icy blade running sending chills down her spine.

She turned around and Ron was standing near his own bed looking none too pleasant.

“What?” she asked, a little angrier than she intended.

“Sit,” he demanded, gesturing at the bed.

“Lunch, Ron, we have to go.”

“You can be late.”

“Fine,” she threw herself heavily onto his bed.

“Break the box spring while you’re at it,” he commented rudely.

“I think I will,” and she moved her body around a little intentionally.

“Well?”

“Yes? What?”

“Ginerva Cristabel Weasley-”

“Oh, here it comes.”

“- talk.”

“About what?” she asked.

“For starters, you can tell me how you know, or shall I say, believe, one of Harry’s letters is a morbis.”

“I just know, okay?”

“And how, exactly do you know?”

“Look, I don’t have to answer to you. You’re not my father.”

“You should be glad I’m not and actually, considering your attitude lately, I think you do, or I’m writing mum and dad. I’m sure you’d much rather deal with sweet ol’ mum than me.”

She exhaled and dropped backwards onto the pillows dramatically.

“Come off it, talk.”

She sat up again.

“Okay, I’ll tell you. A friend told me,” she answered.

“And who is this ‘friend’ you keep running off to meet?”

“I have lots of friends, Ronald. You make it seem like I’m hiding something.”

“Are you?”

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Harry took his letter to Professor McGonagall, who was cleaning up her office with her wand, when he walked in.

“Yes, Mister Potter, good evening, what can I do for you?” she asked politely.

“I received some mail today, and Ginny has this insane, crazy notion that my mail has been tampered with. Can you take a look at it?”

“Just leave it on my desk and I’ll get back to you in the morning.”


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“Of course I’m not hiding something! Don’t be stupid,” Ginny shouted.

“Well, your actions lately would beg me to differ,” he yelled back at her.

“And what would you know about me? Like you’ve paid me any mind in the past couple of weeks,” she screamed.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“It means, if you weren’t so obsessed with your pathetic love life, and Quidditch, and just everything else, maybe you might have been able to answer that question yourself! But you don’t notice!” she nagged at him.

“Notice? Notice! I’ll tell you what I’ve noticed! You’re turning into a bitter girl with nothing better to do than complain about others all day, rather than fixing her own problems!”

“Problems! What do you know about my problems?” she shouted.

“I know that you turn the littlest thing to the biggest catastrophe!” he screamed back.

“You’re incorrigible! You stupid arse!”

“No need for name calling, Ginerva!”

“Shut up, Ronald!”

“What the bloody hell is your problem!”

“My problem!”

“Yes, you said you have many!” He barked.

“Fine, you want to know my problems! I’ll tell you! I have no privacy! You want to know every little thing that goes on in my life!” she barked back.

“That’s not true!”

“Oh yeah? Wherever I go, you have to know, where it is, who I am going with - you’re turning into Percy!”

“That was only once!”

“That was more than once! Bollocks, Ron!” she blasted.

“Why do you have to be so secretive, huh? For all I know, you could be going off to snog Malfoy for Merlin’s sake!” He shouted sarcastically.

Ginny fell silent.

He got the picture immediately, “Are you?” he asked darkly.

Ginny was never scared of her brother; he wouldn’t harm a fly. For the sake of Morgana herself, the boy was scared of spiders! But this was one of the moments when the look on his face made her feel a mixture of fear, anger, embarrassment, and self-pity.

When she didn’t answer him; he walked out, “That’s how you knew about the letters.”

“Ron, c’mon,” she ran after him.

“Don’t touch me,” he whispered taking her hand off his shoulder and leaving the tower.

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When Hermione awoke a couple hours later, it was nearly eight in the evening. She missed dinner, it didn’t matter though, she wasn’t hungry, and was late for her thesis lesson. Ugh, Snape would probably deduct house points or give her detention.

Without thinking, she put her school robes on over her clothes, found her shoes, tied her hair up, grabbed her wand and left her room.

When she finally arrived in his classroom, he was sitting at his desk grading papers.

“You’re late,” he observed, not looking up.

“I’m sorry, I over slept,” she defended.

“15 points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, there is a stack of papers on that table, you are to grade them.”

“Shouldn’t we be working on a potion or something?” she asked without moving.

“Do not question me,” another low, very sour comment from him.

“Yes, sir,” and she sat down.

After about ten minutes of silence he spoke, “You missed dinner.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked looking up at him.

“I do not believe you graced us with your presence at dinner,” he stated again.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she said.

“Are you now?”

“No.”

“You should eat.”

“Why are you so concerned? I thought we had this discussion already,” she asked.

“I was under that impression.”

She looked away from him. There was, no sense in wasting her gazes, he never looked up once.

“Miss Granger?”

“What?” she asked frustrated, raising her head up once again.

In a poof of smoke, on the table at the side of where she was grading papers, appeared a plate of crumpets, and a cup of tea.

“Eat.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

“I won’t have your death from starvation on my conscience.”

“When I die, I’ll make sure to leave a note, that specifically states, that you, Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 37 years of age, sinfully sexy, in dire need of an attitude adjustment, had nothing to do with my dying. Would that suffice?”

“Eat,” he was trying not to laugh at her description and held a straight face.

“Aren’t we,” she was referring to him, “full of pleasant conversation tonight?” adding a hint of sarcasm to her voice.

“Shall I make you?” he finally raised her head looking at her.

“Make me what?”

He stood up and walked over to her, “Devour something.”

Severus was crossing his arms over his chest, looking at her with his usual scowl; she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What amuses you so?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Join me?” she pointed to the plate of food.

“I, as people are suppose to, was at dinner,” he said dryly.

“Then sit with me?” she asked.

“I was under the impression that was what I was doing before.”

“Sitting across the room, and not paying me any mind, does not constitute as sitting with me,” she commented.

“I noticed you,” he went on.

“I didn’t say that you did not.”

He twisted in head slightly to peer at her more.

“Sit with me, next to me, then? Please?” she asked sweetly.

“As you wish,” he finally gave in, and took refuge on top the table next to the one she was at.

Severus watched her cut the crumpets into little triangles, with the utmost precision; what a perfectionist, he thought to himself.

“Crème? Sugar?” she asked.

He gave her a questioning look.

“I’m hoping it won’t taste like the tar, you called ‘tea’, the last time,” she told him.

“I thought you didn’t remember that, and if I’m not mistaken, weren’t you drinking your tea black, with Minerva earlier?” he smirked.

“I remembered it just now, wait a moment! How did you know I was with Professor McGonagall earlier?” she inquired, clearly confused.

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Ginny chased Ron all the way out to the edge of the lake.

“Will you talk to me? Please?” she asked.

He continued to walk away from her, in no particular direction.

“Ron, you’re being stupid!” she called after him.

He kept walking.

“You’re being rude!” she accentuated the last word, making it sound like she was whining.

She ran further. He paid no attention.

“Fine! You’re just like him!” she sneered.

Quicker than she realized, he was spinning around with his finger biting into her shoulders. His nose almost touched her own, “Never, ever, in this lifetime, compare me to that bastard.”

She thought her heart dropped to her stomach, his voice frightened her. Like an icy knife, chills ran down her spine.

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Harry made his way back towards his dormitory to find it empty.

“Bloody brilliant,” he cursed out loud.

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“Well?” Hermione asked, “Are you going to answer me?”

“I would think that you would know the answer to that question yourself,” Severus smirked.

“No?”

“How could I not?”

She exhaled and decided not to push the topic.

“Can I ask you about something?” Hermione tried.

“Did you not just?” he answered.

“No, really, I was wondering if you could tell me about something,” she verbally tugged at him.

“What is it then?” he conceded.

“I mean I know you don’t normally talk about this, maybe you aren’t suppose to-”

“I can speak about anything I choose, strings do not tie my vocal chords,” he cut her off.

“Well, the thing is, I…”

“Do you, or do you not have a question?”

“I do.”

“Then out with it,” he prodded.

“Tell me about the Death Eaters.”

If looks could kill, she would be dead. His face went pale, his eyes narrowed and he lifted his head slightly in angry superiority.

Be brave, Hermione, don’t pull out now, she told herself silently.

“Do you regret leaving?” she dared to continue.

His lips thinned and she slightly bit her bottom lip.

“Don’t do that, it’s not genteel behavior,” was his answer.

“I was only wondering if you-”

He snapped, “Yes, we know you like to wonder. Do not ask questions that you would not like the answers to. Not everything in this world is daisies and sunshine, Hermione. Some questions are best left unasked. Just as, some answers, are better left unheard.”

“But-”

“This is the last time those words leave your lips. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she stammered to get the words out.

He nodded slightly, walked back to his papers, and proceeded to ignore her.

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“You’re not an angel, Ronald,” Ginny squeaked softly.

“I never claimed to be one,” he said icily.

“It’s okay for Hermione to date a Slytherin, but I can’t?” she asked.

“You aren’t Hermione,” he sneered.

“You aren’t Hermione either,” she shot back at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Blaise,” one word and he let go of her shoulders.

Ginny rubbed her arms to loosen the pain.

“What do you know about that?” he asked.

“Enough to know you shouldn’t be preaching about it.”

“How did you find out?”

“Draco.”

“Of course, why assume otherwise?”

“Stop being a prick,” the words left her mouth with more animosity that she meant them too.

“He’s named after a bloody Dragon, Ginerva,” Ron tried reason.

“She’s got a boy’s name, Ronald,” she answered.

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Harry walked into the Great Hall, alone, sat down at the Gryffindor table and pulled out a copy to the Daily Prophet, ignoring everything else around him.

“Hello, Harry.”

He looked up, “Blaise?” He looked around, realizing that they were two of maybe fifteen other people in the Great Hall, or else he doubted she would have taken the opportunity to speak to him.

Blaise Zabini.

Blaise.

Zabini.

Help the heavens.

Eyes, green as jade, outlined in the deepest black. No wonder she was a Slytherin. Forget the rest of her, with eyes like that, there had to be a dark streak.

“Is there something you wanted?” Harry asked, raising a brow, pretending to be disinterested.

“Did you give your mail to McGonagall?” she inquired velvety, letting her fingers roam over an emerald snake pendent around her neck. Yes, she definitely was a Slytherin.

The gloss on her lip gave a delicious, succulent look; lips that looked like they needed to be kissed and sucked on repeatedly. If not a part veela or succubus, what was she? She was not surely only a pureblood.

“What do you care about my mail?” Harry answered her question with one his own.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Good day, Harry,” she walked away.

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Severus was looking for something on his bookshelf when she called to him.

“I’m finished,” Hermione announced.

Severus turned to recognize her statement; she was talking to his back.

“Professor, I’m finished grading your papers,” she said again.

“I heard you the first time,” he answered.

“Well, least you acknowledge that fact,” she muttered briskly.

He looked at her and then smiled.

“Why are you smiling? Do I amuse you now?”

“Slightly,” he admitted sitting down on a nearby tabletop, with a book in his hands and his legs parted to a ‘v’.

“Bollocks, and while we are on the subject,” she reprimanded, “I don’t like black roses; I like yellow, with a tinge of peach or pink on the outer tops. And furthermore, I’m not your ‘possession’,” her fingers made quotation makes in the air, “regardless of whatever you may think.”

He arched an eyebrow with those statements, wondering what in the world she was talking about. And he didn’t usually prefer flowers, though in roses, he happened to prefer, deep, blood red ones.

“Don’t give me that look,” she continued, “I know you know. And now you know I know you know, and I won’t stand for it. It’s so morbid and bleak. Do I seem like someone who appreciates morbid and bleak to you? Of course not!”

He parted his lips to speak, but her ranting cut him before the words rolled off his tongue.

“But you seem to think so! And I don’t like this…this arrangement! I don’t like running around and pretending all these things we do!”

“What do we pretend to-”

“I’m so very tired. You don’t help much do you?”

“Help with-”

“You’re always coming and going, and speaking in riddles, how am I suppose to ever cope with you?” with each remark she made she walked closer to him, probably without realizing it.

“You, cope with me?” now he was really amused.

“That is what I said,” and she took at step backwards when she saw that her toes were in between his legs, “Are you daft?”

His smile was irritating her, “I, daft?”

“And you repeat everything I say. You aren’t a parrot; why must you behave like one?”

“Come here, Hermione,” he commanded.

She folded her hands over her chest, “I’m quite fine right here, thank you.”

“I ordered you to come here,” he repeated.

She took a single step towards him.

“Closer,” he beckoned.

She took one more step towards him.

“Closer,” he put his book down beside him, clasped his hands and let them fall between his thighs, giving him a truly Sicilian Don appearance.

“I think this is close enough,” she commented quietly, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“I didn’t ask you to think. Closer,” he gestured.

She was standing between his thighs with an extremely uncomfortable look on her face, “Close enough?”

“For now,” and his arms reached around her waist, pulling her right up against him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Something I’ve been feeling to do for quite a bit of time,” he answered moving a hand to the side of neck.

“Are you going to throttle me for calling you daft?” she asked softly; when he laughed as his lips brushed hers softly.

He had forgotten how good she tasted. She had forgotten how good he felt against her.

Hermione’s arms rested lightly on his upper chest, while he arched her back deepening their kiss. When he pulled his lips away and gazed at her, she left her eyes closed and clung to him. She placed her head on his shoulders, letting her lips rest against his neck.

“I can feel you heart beating against mine,” she said suddenly. He smiled and kissed her shoulder.

Severus couldn’t fathom how long he held her in his arms. It was already so late, she should be back in her room, sleeping, rest, whatever it was, and she should have been doing it.

She had asked him about Death Eaters.

She had asked him about himself, as a Death Eater.

He had not answered her.

“Can I pretend that you’re beside me when I’m alone? In the darkness, you and me forever and forever…” her voice trailed off.

“I won’t leave you; you should not need to pretend,” he whispered in her ear.

“But when the night’s over, or when everyone’s asleep, when the world goes to bed, when I’m by myself, without you, living and breathing inside my head… thoughts…can I pretend that you’re beside me? Until the morning when the sun rises?” she went back to her monotonously, far away voice that made him uncomfortable.

“Don’t pretend, what happens when the world’s abed?” he asked.

“I’m alone.”

“We are all alone at some point.”

“I’m left on my own…you’re lips shine in the rain…I liked seeing you like that,” she relaxed her grip on him.

“Do you now?” his voice was so soft it was almost out of his usual character. It was one of the few times she heard a caress in his tone.

“Raindrops shine like silver…turns the grass to emeralds… you’re so perfect in that setting,” she giggled. “You’re Slytherin, and damaged and bitter. The cold rain looks like it was made for you. But it’s okay you know?”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because I love you,” she sniffled against him. “And I know you’re not as horrible as you make everyone think you are. Actually, most of the time, when you’re being yourself, I find you quite lovely.”

He let out a small, low chuckle.

She was talking out of context now; he always understood her, even when she was younger. He always understood. Raindrops and the thoughts of her being alone, they were just her random thoughts of life. The things that mattered, the things that didn’t, the things that she just interjected into moments at random when she felt like it.

“I think you need to return to you room now,” he finally mustered to say.

She went back to clinging to him, “I don’t want to leave you yet.”

“Did I not say, ‘you would come back to me?’” he let out a short, soft chuckle.

“Shut it,” her voice cracked in sadness.

“What is it?” he asked letting her body’s stance slowly move down as he stood up, still holding her.

She didn’t appear to move or want to tell him. Her head was still turned the same way and now her arms were gently around his waist.

“I want to be with you,” she answered.

“I know, and in the right time-”

“I want to be with you now.”

“Hermione-”

“Don’t flatter yourself; I don’t want to sleep with you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything of the-”

“I just don’t want to leave you. When you’re with me, I tend not to dream…”

“You haven’t had nightmares recently, I know.”

“It’s not that; it’s not about nightmares, or just dreams…I…”

“Yes?”

She turned her head towards him; his heart burned when he saw the look in her eyes; he felt it down to his fingertips.

“I’m safe.”

He brushed his lips over her cheek and rubbed her back a little.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked.

“Let me stay with you,” she answered.

“Your night should be over by now, but mine … love, I have things to do…and you…you need rest,” he said.

“Let me stay with you…regardless…I’m not at all tired,” and a small yawn escaped her lips.

He smiled; he had to admire her determination; when she wanted something, she determined to get it.

“Alright,” he separated from her, flicked his wand and his papers piled and made smaller to fit in his palm.

She watched him silently, letting one of her arms wrap around her waist and the other rest above her heart, fingertips grazing her neck. Hermione looked like she would be ill.

Severus walked away from her and made his way to the classroom entrance, “Go to your tower, and when you’re ready, the floo password is ‘Black Asp,’ as in the snake.” He was gone, robes swaying behind him.

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Ron and Ginny finally made their way back to the tower; Harry was sitting by the window with Hedwig on his lap.

“Thank you for leaving me alone earlier,” he snapped when they walked towards him.

“I’m sorry, Harry. We didn’t realize it,” Ginny told him sweetly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ron added.

“So are you going to keep looking at me liked I’ve gained a third eye, or are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Harry asked them.

“We had an argument,” Ginny explained.

“Yes, that much is obvious,” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Ginny has issues,” Ron interjected.

She threw him a dirty look.

“Speaking of issues, the oddest thing happened to me today after you two blatantly left me. I was in the Great Hall when, of all people, Blaise popped up to inquire after my mail. Imagine that, Blaise Zabini was interested in Harry Potter’s mail,” he ran his hands through his hair.

“Well…I… you see…I mean Ron didn’t understand either…and he still doesn’t …but that’s not the point and Harry…you wouldn’t believe it…but…I… and…she…and …oh dear…” was all Ginny could muster out of her mouth.

Harry looked at Ron.

“What she means to say is that she’s snogging Malfoy, and Blaise told Draco, and he told Gin, and she told us, well you know, that you were sent at morbis,” Ron blurted bluntly and quickly.

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When Hermione arrived in the common room, Harry and Ron were sitting by the window playing Wizard’s Chess.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing, want to play?” Ron answered with a question of his own.

“Not really, I should turn in early tonight,” she told him.

“And what exactly is early to you?” Harry asked, “It’s almost half past ten.”

“Earlier than other nights,” Hermione commented.

Ron laughed, “Your move, Potter.”

“Well then, goodnight,” she told them.

“Night,” they said in unison and as she reached midway to her bedroom, she heard Ron happily yell, “checkmate.”

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It was almost an hour later when she flooed into his rooms. She ended up tumbling into his bedroom, but she quickly stood up and looked for him.

She was half expecting to see him sleeping in his bed, but he wasn’t.

“Over here,” she heard him say darkly.

She followed his voice and saw him sitting in a rather large, leather chair almost in the corner, next to the fireplace.

“Yes,” the words barely were able to come out of her mouth.

He was in his night robe, legs crossed, the coffee table was filled with his papers and books, quill and paper in hand; he had an expressionless face.

“Are you almost finished? It’s a quarter to twelve; are you grading papers or researching something?” she asked.

“What does the term ‘long night’ imply to you?” he asked dryly.

She smiled with his remark and walked towards him, she moved his hands aside, cupped his face in her palms and kissed him softly, “I could fall in love with you.”

He didn’t wrap his arms around her or pull her close, “I thought you already were.”

She let go of him then, looked at him for a moment, and then made her way to his bed. She took off her robe and laid it on the chest that was at the bottom end of the bed. As her head hit the pillows, she dozed off.

Hermione had no idea how long it was before she felt him slide beside her. His cold hands stirred her slightly as they pulled her into his warm embrace. She felt him kiss her forehead and stroke her back. His legs trapped hers making her hips cradle his and as he relaxed his body, she felt his heartbeat. She wanted to ask him the time, but the scent of him and the rhythm he was making, drowned out any thoughts of that.


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Ginny couldn’t sleep. She could never sleep these days. It was nearly two in the morning and she had been lying awake in her bed for almost five hours. At this rate she would never get to sleep and end up being a zombie the next morning.

She sighed out loud and sat up. The three other girls in her room were fast asleep and she envied them horrendously. She grabbed her night robe, slipped on her bedroom slippers and crept quietly to the boy’s side.

Ginny opened her intended door to find Harry still awake reading and Ron fast asleep. He looked up when she entered; his eyes were looking magical tonight.

“What’s up?” he asked.

She looked over to sleeping Ron, “nothing.”

Harry nodded, and went back to reading.

Ginny closed the door as she stepped fully inside the room. The sounds of Seamus’ snoring drowned out any other sound. She moved over to Ron’s bed and poked him softly. He stirred and looked up at her face drowsily, “What?” the words came out harsher than he intended.

Ron moved over and let his sister crawl in beside him, “You haven’t done this since you were ten years old,” he whispered slightly sitting up.

She moved in beside him and the saline started to drop from her eyes.

“Aww, Gin, it’s okay,” he comforted her, “whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

She snuggled closer to him, “Tell me Charlie’s tale.”

“I don’t know if I remember it; it’s been years. Besides, I use to embellish it to make you sleep.”

“Please try,” the sadness in her voice made his heart break. Something was bothering his sister, something that she refused to discuss.

“Okay, Charlie decided to study dragons when he was fourteen years old and an Egyptian black-scaled had almost taken a good chunk out of his…”


** “Come here, Hermione,” he commanded …“Are you going to throttle me?” she asked softly, when he laughed as his lips brushed her softly…” – was based lightly on a scene from Julie Garwood’s “Ransom.” …… This is something totally random, but I’m Indian, so I watch Indian cinema, and I was on this website called IndiaFM that showcases lots of Bollywood stuff, and there is this model turned actress named Celina Jaitly, she was Miss India in 2001 for Miss Universe, anyways, the point is, I saw this picture of her in a green shalwar, decked out in jewelry and makeup, and all I could think to myself was “Slytherin”, lol, go figure, thought I would share (http://www.indiafm.com/posters/celina/celina3.shtml) ... So if there was a Indian in Slytherin, in my head, she looks like that. Doesn’t she have shocking eyes? And there is this techno-esq venus fly trap looking thing in the background, which just added to my Slytherin association. Oh and Celina doesn’t look that shocking all the time… ***