I Meant Every Word He Said

Hey! It’s me, Archie, posting yet ANOTHER story instead of working on Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry like I SHOULD be doing (read the ending author’s note for progress on that story!). . .but I dunno, I was forced to listen to this song when I went with my dad to get shingles for his next job, a total of 3 hour trip with nothing but Ricky Van Shelton, maybe a little Cars, playing in the tape player…I thought it was going to be torture because I thought RVS was just some old-timer that was just…ugh! BUT now, I LOVE his music, this song especially, along with quite a few others that I am planning on writing one-shots to, but not right now. Anyway, this is my first story that’s in this sort of perspective (I think it’s first person, I can’t remember the difference between 1^st and 2^nd person, lol!), so hopefully it goes well! Please review and let me know what you think of it!

I Meant Every Word He Said

I heard him say I love you.
I heard him say forever.
And without you, he'd rather be dead.
I felt my hands shaking.
I felt my heart breaking.
'Cause I meant every word he said.

I saw him whisper something.
Then I saw you look so happy.
It's a look I won't ever forget.
'Cause whatever he told you,
Meant I'd never hold you.
And I meant every word he said.

“I Meant Every Word He Said” RICKY VAN SHELTON

I glare hopelessly at my reflection in the mirror, feeling somewhat lost and disoriented. I can’t believe it. This is it. This is the day all my dreams will officially shatter into a million tiny pieces. It’s the day of my two best friends’ wedding.

I’m getting ready in my soon-to-be-former room in the flat the three of us share-- after today, it will be used to share. I’m moving out of their flat and into one with Dean and Seamus. They didn’t ask me to, I insisted. I told them it was because they’ll be married and will want privacy. . .which is true. The real reason? I don’t think I’d be able to handle it, them now sharing a room right now the hall.

I’m happy for them, really, I am. They’ve both been through so much, they deserve a little happiness. But why does it have to be with each other? This is not how things were supposed to turn out.

I was supposed to be her One and Only. I’m hopelessly in love with her, afraid I always have been. I thought it would be me with Hermione, not him.

They had crushes on each other in First or Second Year, I can’t remember, I never paid that much attention then. When they finally admitted to liking each other in Third Year, I thought nothing of it . We were all only thirteen. They would quickly realize they were better off as friends. It would end soon enough.

Fourth Year came and went, the pair of them still shy in their relationship, if that’s what it even was. I still kept telling myself it wasn’t going to last. I convinced myself I would get my chance with her, even as I watched him twirl her around the dance floor at the Yule Ball. It was just a silly crush they had on each other.

By Fifth Year, I noticed things changed between them. They weren’t so shy anymore. They were getting more physical now. I would glare at their held-hands or his arm when it was so-naturally wrapped around her shoulders or rested on her hip. They gave looks to each other that sometimes made me want to scream at the top of my lungs in jealously. However, they were fifteen, I still had time. I still had a chance with her.

Sixth Year went by very much the same as Fifth Year. They became closer, I became even more envious of him. Everyone always talked about how jealous he was of me, of what I had, and yet, there I was, green with envy every time they were together. I was running out of time. They were going on three years now! Surely he would do something to muck their relationship up! He was a total prat half the time! It’s wasn’t real love or anything! It was just puppy love. It would soon pass. It had to!

It hit me like a ton of bricks in the summer before Seventh Year. We were staying at the headquarters for the Order for protection. I can still remember the night I overheard their private conversation.

I wanted a midnight snack. It was late and the house was dark and quiet. I silently made my way to the kitchen to raid the ice box. After polishing off a bowl of my favorite ice cream, I slowly crept back upstairs and slid into my warm bed. I laid there for a few minutes before hearing the door slowly creak open. I could hear their soft whispering. Why weren’t they in bed? I heard her giggle faintly, slightly shocked at the noise. It was such a delicious sound. I couldn’t recall ever hearing it before. He was trying to shush her without making much noise himself. “You’ll wake him up! Shh!” Her giggle was muffled this time; she was probably holding her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t wake me up. Too late for that. I had a sudden desire to hex him for trying to silent such a beautiful sound.

There was a quiet shuffling noise followed by a gentle creaking that let me know they were climbing into his inviting bed. My back was in their direction, not to mention the darkness, so they couldn’t see my open eyes glaring stonily at the wall. Did they do this often? Run off for a midnight stroll, then come back to his room to make a perfect ending to a wonderful night together? A gut-wrenching feeling settled painfully in my stomach. What was I about to witness? Were they going to actually have sex with me “sleeping” right over here? She had always struck me as the type that would wait until marriage.

I had accidentally walked in on those two in the past quite a few times while they were snogging, and even a bit of indecent touching; but never anything too horrible. It always cut me up inside when I caught them, just knowing he had his grubby hands on my girl, and even more, that she let him touch her like that. The last thing I wanted right now was to overhear the girl of my dreams have sex with my best friend.

I listened for a moment to try and figure out what they were doing. I had to strain my ears to catch their soft, low voices.

“. . .and we’re so old!” she whispered in a tone that border-lined astonishment. “I can’t picture going to Hogwarts for our final year. It’s all just so surreal. We’re considered adults now, can you believe it?” she asked him.

I heard his quiet reply, “I know what you mean. It all seemed to pass by so quickly.” His voice held a bit of amazement as well. I had to mentally agree with them. Hogwarts had always almost seemed like my home, I couldn’t picture not returning next year.

“And what about the three of us?” she asked in a worried voice. “What are we all going to do? We’ve always been the best of friends. What if we grow apart. And me and you? What if something happens between us. . .?” she trailed off, her voice holding a hint of fear.

I felt a sudden pang in my heart as hurt and disappointment coursed through my veins. She was so worried about their future together. What about our future together? Did she ever stop to consider the fact that they weren’t soul mates? That maybe me and her would be a more perfect fit together?

He tried to soothe her, I could tell by his gentle murmuring. His words were soft and comforting. I clenched my fists in rage. I wanted to be the one consoling her. I should be her rock, not him.

“Hermione, I love you. I’ll love you forever, never doubt that. No matter what the future has in store for us, it will never change the way I feel about you; it’s not possible. If I didn’t have you, I’d rather just be dead. It’s scary sometimes how much you mean to me. We’re it, Hermione, there’s nothing else for it.” His voice choked out, cracking slightly near the end.

I could feel my body involuntarily start to shake. A heavy weight--the truth of his words--crushed my heart painfully. I felt a tightening in my very chest. His earnest words echoed in my mind, mocking me. Blood pounded loudly in my ears as I slowly chanced a look behind me to note her reaction to the strong guarantee that laced his words. The glow of the moonlight was engulfing her stunning form that was clinging to his chest. Tears shown at her eyes, but a teary smile graced her lips. I had never seen her look happier, and it killed me inside to know that he made her feel like that and not me.

His emotional words had went straight to her heart. I could see she felt the same, she didn’t need to say it; I could read it from her expression. It was a look I would never forget. It was at this moment when I realized I was fighting a losing battle. As I watched him bend down to whisper something in her ear, deep inside I knew I would never get to hold her. It wasn’t fair. All those emotional feelings-- all those words-- I truly meant every word he said.

That was the night I had almost lost all hope. But I’m stubborn. I kept telling myself they had been just caught up in the moment that night. That their relationship wasn’t it. They would break up eventually, they had to.

So I waited. I waited all through Seventh Year. I always tried to make their disagreements a bit more dramatic then they needed to be. But somehow, they still graduated hand-in-hand, stronger than ever.

But I still had a wee bit of hope. When they first suggested that we all live together, I almost declined. How could I sleep right down the hall from their shared bedroom? But I had been correct when thinking Hermione wanted to wait until marriage before having sex, so they decided on separate bedrooms to avoid temptation. I took that as a sign. So, I gladly accepted their offer.

Our new living quarters had taken a little while to get used to, but eventually, we were all able to work in sync with each other. Schedules of who was cooking on certain days and who had what chores had, of course, been made. Hermione had said right from the beginning that this flat was not a “bachelor pad” in our first flat meeting. She likes to have a lot of those, and it used to annoy me, but I realized it was the little things like that that kept this flat together.

And still, I waited for her to fall out of love with him and in love with me. I was the only person he has told that he planned on asking Hermione to marry him six months ago. When he showed me the engagement ring, I wanted to laugh. It was so simple and basic, very unlike Hermione. She deserved the best, but he didn’t get her something really expensive like I would have gotten. I would have spent every last knut I had if I had to, just to make sure she got the best because she deserved nothing less. To make sure she got a ring that was fit for such a brilliant and beautiful woman like herself. His cheap-looking ring wasn’t nearly good enough for her. I would have gotten better.

But she loved it. She had immediately said yes to his proposal. But it wasn’t even romantic. He has asked her while they were washing the bloody dishes! A girl waits years to be asked for her hand in marriage, and causally asking her while scrubbing dinner plates was not a good proposal. I was sitting at the table and watched the entire scene unfold. When she jumped into his arms--soap suds and all--I felt as if m whole world was crashing down on me. A pounding sound echoed in my ears, and I quickly exited the room. From the door, I looked back to see tears of joy slide down her cheeks as tears of pain journeyed down my own.

He had asked me to be his Best Man. How could I refuse? I’m his best mate, the second most important person in his life. I’m his brother. So that’s why I’m here today, in my brand new suit and robes, standing outside the door that led to the room where I can bet he is currently pacing in nervously. I should go in and try to calm him down, but I’m afraid I might punch him instead. I don’t want to see him, I want to see Hermione.

But I can’t. I have a duty as Best Man to tend to the groom. So, after I take a deep breath and run a hand through my messy hair, I go inside. I was right. He was pacing the room, looking almost lost and utterly frightened out of his mind.

“Hey mate, you doin’ okay?” I ask awkwardly.

He gulps nervously, “I’m fine, just a bit. . .” he trails off.

“Scared?” I fill in unhelpfully, aware I am just making it worse.

I’m reminded of the time when he first confided in me that he had a crush on Hermione. He had been so flustered and embarrassed, as well as afraid of what I would think. Now, instead of being flustered and filled with embarrassment, he’s nervous and filled with fear. And instead of being afraid of what I would think, he’s afraid he’ll fail her.

I don’t try to console him, I don’t really know how. Neither of us are real emotional blokes, so instead, we awkwardly chat about what mistakes not to make during the wedding. He asks me for advice, but I have none to offer.

“Sorry mate, but unless you’re planning on taking me along on the honeymoon, you’re on your own on this one.” I say in an attempt to ease some of the tension.

He laughs softly, flashing that stupid grin that she finds so endearing.

“Look mate, you know I love you and all, but I really don’t think I want you there on my wedding night.” He replies jokingly.

I force a laugh before thinking about what he said--about loving me--and feel slightly disgusted with myself that all I can think about right now is how much I hate him. Also, I try to ignore the part about his wedding night. I don’t want to think about what is going to go on between them tonight, I don’t think I can stomach it.

“Have you seen Hermione?? He asked, breaking me from my ugly and upsetting thoughts. I shake my head in the negative and tell him I would go check on her right now.

After knocking on her dressing room door, she answers, a nervous smile playing on her lips. She looks positively breathtaking in her wedding dress, and for a minute, I see a vision of her walking down the aisle towards me, not him.

“How is he?” she asks as she shuts the door.

I shrug, “He looks like he’s about to piss his pants from nervousness at any given moment.” I answer tonelessly as my gaze shifts around the room. This is the last time I will get to be alone with her as an unmarried woman, and I don’t want to spend it talking about him.

My cheeky comment earns a laugh, however, so I’m glad she asked. A million things run through my brain, unanswered questions and “what if’s” that have plagued my mind for years, causing many sleepless nights and heartache. I want to ask why was she doing this to me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why didn’t’ I ever get a chance? Did she ever feel the same about me? Why was she so happy with him and not me? Why was she marrying him? Why, why, why? I feel my temper start to flare, but I don’t want to cause her any distress on her big day, so I refrain from asking and instead, quickly excuse myself to find a quiet place I can take my anger out on.

They were getting married in a small hall in London, so I soon find a vacant room to let my pent-up frustrations out in. I use wandless magic to put a Silencing and Locking charm up on the room before suddenly shouting. I punch the wall repeatedly in rage, ignoring the pain and bloodying of my knuckles. But I can’t help it. My entire world is ending. So I kick and scream. I scream about how much I love her and hate him. Tears of pain and frustration sting my eyes, but I pay no mind.

Finally I clam down and slowly slide to the floor. Panting heavily, I observe the room. I had kicked over a desk and all the items that had been on it were scattered on the floor, as well as the rubbish bin that now had all its contents spilled unceremoniously on the carpet. I tug at my untidy hair, breathing unevenly as I rock back and forth, muttering thickly, “My girl, my girl, she’s my girl,” under my breath.

I know it’s almost time for the ceremony. I know I need to get up and get my arse out there. I’m the Best Man for Merlin’s sake. I get a front seat ticket to watch the event that is going to tear my heart to shreds. So that’s what I do. I get up and, with a wave of my hand, everything returns to its proper place. I exit the room and duck into a nearby men’s restroom and quickly fix my appearance by splashing cool water on my heated face and washing the blood from my now-bruised knuckles. I stared at my slightly paling reflection for a moment before exiting the lavatory and numbly forcing myself to the hall where my best friends were soon to be wed.

I don’t wait very long before the ceremony begins and I am called up to my position of standing beside him as his Best Man. He grins nervously at me in his black tuxedo and emerald robes. I get the desire to punch him again, but instead, I return his grin then look out at the small crowd. I recognize almost everyone present and briefly wonder if any of them think I should be the groom, not him. But they all look cheerful, and I recall overhearing them gush about all the chemistry bullshit the pair of them have. Before I can brood anymore on that thought, music begins suddenly and the bridesmaids slowly make their way down the aisle. I start for feel ill to my stomach and inconspicuously wipe my sweating palms on my robes.

The sickening feeling only intensifies when I see her. Merlin, she looks so exquisite. I feel as if the wind has suddenly been knocked out of me as my breath hitches in my pounding chest. Once again, I see a vision of me being the groom as she slowly glides to me. My eyes are transfixed on her lovely face and the thrilled smile that is gracing her lips.

My chest tightens painfully as memories of our childhood together flash before my eyes like a slide show. I see images of a much younger version of her telling me off for being reckless or not doing my homework properly. I feel the feather-light touch of her lips pressed to my cheek for good luck before a Quidditch match. I hear her yelling at me for not doing something right and feel her hugging me tightly at the end of the school year after we get off the scarlet train. Flashes of her curled up in front of a roaring fire in the Common Room or at our flat with a large book on her knees. . .

Finally, her father pauses and leans over to bestow a soft kiss on her forehead. My body, almost on impulse, starts to lurch forward to escort her the rest of the way to the altar, but I see him step forward and remember she’s marrying him, not me. I suddenly get the urge to start bawling.

They exchange nervous smiles as Dumbledore begins the ancient words of the Marriage Ritual. The entire time, I’m crying inside, mentally begging her to call it off. When he asks if anyone objects, I want to yell and scream “Yes! I object! This is a mistake!” but I don’t, instead, I remain silent and continue my mental pleading. My eyes start to sting with tears as I shift my gaze from their joined hands to their teary, joyful faces. She doesn’t call it off. She says “I do,” in a voice that I’ve never heard before, a voice that is overflowing with promise and assurance. Now, the old man is looking at him expectantly at him, and he says in a strong, quiet voice that is thick with emotion, “I do.” Upon hearing his words, I look at her shining eyes and choke back “I do too,” as tears slide silently down my cheeks. I watch, screaming inside, as he bends down to place a gentle kiss on her lips with my head pounding and my heart shattering all over again.

And I feel it break over and over as I watch them share their first dance as a married couple. I recall the time I watched you two dance at the Yule Ball. . .I had been so sure then that this wouldn’t last. I never thought I’d have to watch you two dance as a married couple. I mull over the Best Man speech I had just given only minutes before. It was nothing special, mostly false wishes of a successful marriage that I secretly hoped would fall apart soon.

He’s holding her close, murmuring discretely in her ear. My fists are clenched painfully under the table. I remember her tears at his touching vows and can’t help the frustration I drown in because I meant every word he said.

Their dance is finished and she is now sharing one with her father. He immediately makes a beeline in my direction and greets me with a grin. I congratulate him again in a fake, cheerful voice. I jokingly mention that I heard once a couple tie the knot, the sex life takes a nosedive , so he better make the most of it during the honeymoon. He laughs quietly and shakes his head at my antics. We make small talk before I suddenly find her in front of me with that angelic smile she has, asking me for a dance.

My mouth goes dry, and for a second, hope fills me inside. I glance at him and he nods his head towards the dance floor with an amused grin. Somehow, I take her outstretched hand and stumble to my feet. She leads us to the center of the dance floor, but I don’t really notice because all my senses are going haywire. The feeling of her in my arms is spreading warmth throughout my entire body as I hesitantly pull her closer. She has no objections and sends me that gorgeous grin of hers.

“You look positively breathtaking, you know that right?” I ask with a genuine smile. She blushes at my compliment and looks down for a moment, muttering a barely audible “thank you.” I use this as an excuse to gently turn her head so she was looking up at me. “I mean it, you’re the most gorgeous woman in the room right now.” I breath softly and can’t help but inwardly sigh in bliss because of how good it felt to be with her like this.

She smiles. “I’m the bride, I think it might be a rule or something.” she jokes, causing my grin to widen.

I give her a wink, “That must be it.”

We continue to silently sway slowly to the music. I feel like I’m in heaven. All my senses are focused solely on her, the feel of her soft body gently brushing mine, one of her smaller hands in mine while her other one is lightly grasping my left shoulder. The smell of her shampoo is fogging my senses. I can never understand why her hair always smells good, but it does. We use the same generic shampoo, but her hair always smells better.

I can feel his eyes on me, watching us dance. I meet his gaze from across the room. He’s talking to her father at the moment, but he’s looking past him and at me, a look of confirmation in his eyes.

The dance ends too soon in my opinion. Even after the last note sounds, I don’t loosen my grip just yet. I stare down at her and an eternity seems to pass us by. Finally, she lets go of me and presses a tender kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for the dance.” she whispers before giving me a quick hug and then returning to her husband.

He finds me later outside, looking out at the sunset. He has a glass of grape juice in his hand and a plate of untouched cake in the other. “You didn’t eat any cake.” he greets me, and I just shrug.

“Not very hungry.” I lie, not taking my eyes off the sunset.

He laughs and I know he doesn’t believe me. “Well, I brought this out to you anyway.”

I give him a grin in thanks and start to pick at the wedding cake.

After a few long tense minutes of me picking at my slice of cake and him sipping his grape juice, he finally breaks the thick silence. “I know how you feel about her.” he says, his voice barely audible.

I look up, surprised at his words. “Excuse me?” I ask, not sure I heard him right.

He looks me right in the eye, “You heard me. I said I know how you feel about her.” His voice is strong and holds no room for even the possibility of being wrong.

What do I do? Do I admit it or play if off? I decide on the former, it’s already out in the open anyway. “My feelings about her don’t matter, you two are married.” I reply, unceremoniously tossing my cake aside.

He gives me a hard look, “You’re right, we are married. But that doesn’t change your feelings.” he points out bluntly.

I stare back at him as I start to feel my anger rise. He looks so calm and sure of himself, and I’m doing my best not to lose my temper because he found out my secret. “Go to hell.” I say because I can’t think of anything else.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” he replies smoothly with a sigh. We sit in silence before he continues, “I’ve always known you felt that way about her. I’ve seen the looks you give her when you think no one is looking, and the way you were dancing with her earlier. . .” he trails off.

I try to ignore his knowing words, but they get to me anyway, “Yeah well, it doesn’t matter now.” I respond tightly.

“You know, sometimes I actually thought she might be better off with you, don’t think I’ve never considered it because I have. But I was never strong enough to let her go, she’s mine. So I always just ignored your feelings. . .I’m sorry, but she is one thing that I need. I kept convincing myself you would get over it, it was just some infatuation. But you love her, I can tell. Not as much as I do, Merlin, I don’t even think that’s possible. . .and. . .well, honestly? I’m not sorry things turned out the way they did, I’d be lying if I said I was. But. . .I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry you feel this way and. . .well, I hope you can find a girl for you like Hermione is for me.” He whispers, looking straight at me.

What was he playing at? He may as well have been saying, “Hey mate, I know how you feel about her, and I’ve known all along mind you, but hey, fuck you! I couldn’t careless!” I stare at him in disbelief and I feel my frustration start getting the better of me, “You know, this is rich. This is just so fucking rich. You come out here to tell me you know how I’ve felt about her, and you’ve been more or less shitting on me all these years?! What, are you trying to make yourself feel better by doing this? By telling me you’re bloody sorry I feel this way?! Is that suppose to make me feel any better?!” I shout, looking daggers at him, but he doesn’t even flinch at my words or tone, which just spurs me on. “This is just like you! You try to fix things, but you only make them worse!” I can’t take it anymore. The longer I stand there, the more I want to hit him and his damn self-righteousness.

“Look mate-” he begins but I cut him off.

“No, don’t ‘look mate’ me! Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone, huh? How I feel is none of your goddamn business!” I yell, kicking the bench that was sitting beside me. I feel a sharp pain shoot through my toe all the way up my leg, but I ignore it and continue to glare at him.

He doesn’t flinch and looks detached from all emotion. I feel my face heat up, and it irks me even more that he’s isn’t responding to my temper, he isn’t yelling and shouting back. I’m in love with his bloody wife for Merlin’s sake, and all he can do is stare blankly at me.

His eyes change from blank to suddenly blazing with an emotion I can’t recognize. My eyes start to sting from not blinking, and I feel tears threaten to spill over to my cheeks. My body starts to shake violently with emotion as I get even more riled up.

He clears his throat and says in a clear voice, “I’m not sorry about how things turned out, but I’m sorry you have to feel this way. She’s an amazing woman, any bloke would be mad not to fall in love with her, especially some like you who is so close to her, but we’re together for good now,” he whispers softly, still unblinking. “Please, try to get over this, it kills me to know you’re feeling this way and it’s partly my fault. I love you like a brother, mate, you know that.” he says, and with that, he turns around and leaves.

I’m still standing here, glaring at his turned back as the tears start to fall. His words fog my brain and finally, my shaking knees give out and I fall. I want to ignore everything he said, everything about them being together for good now. I wonder briefly if this is going to put a strain on our relationship--my secret being out now--but then again, I don’t really care at the moment. I don’t want to bother thinking about that now, so instead, I sigh and slowly get back to my feet as I calm down. I stay out here for a few more minutes before retuning to the reception. They’re dancing again, and I see her laughing loudly in his arms. The photographer gets a quick snapshot to record the beautiful moment in time. Maybe he’s right, maybe they are together “for good” now. Maybe I don’t have any prospect of being with her. . .hell, maybe I never did.

I won’t give up though. I still think there’s a flickering shred of hope that I will get my chance with her, and I suppose it will be there until the day I die. I doubt I’ll ever stop loving her; I don’t think it’s possible. And I doubt I’ll ever stop hating him for doing this to me, for taking away all my chances with her the very first day he--blushing from head to toe--told her he thought she looked cute with her bushy hair back in our Third Year. I sigh and briefly wonder why things had to turn out this way when I meant every word he has ever said to her. Why can’t I be the one she’s kissing right now? Why can’t I be the one that will be holding her tonight? Why did she pick him over me? Why, for the love of Merlin, does her new last name have to be Potter?

His heart stole those words from my head.
Now it's too late to tell you what he's already said.
I heard him say I love you.
I heard him say forever.
Then he said with this ring I thee wed.
And when he said I do,
I choked back, I do too.
And I meant every word he said.

“I Meant Every Word He Said” RICKY VAN SHELTON

So…what did you think? Did you all know who the narrator was the entire time? I know this is a bit unlike Ron, with all these feelings and all that jazz, BUT I think he’s an awesome character and that, deep inside, he DOES possess some sort of feelings other than mostly negative ones…ugh, he’s not JUST a jealous prat, lol. Anyway, I hope you all loved it. Before everyone KILLS me, I have good news! I was completely stuck in The Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry at one part because I couldn’t think up the name of a product to use. . .how lame is that?!?! BUT after talking with some friends yesterday, the idea just kinda came to me, and I think I’ll have the next chapter out really soon because I know how I want everything to go it in! Isn’t that just SOOO awesome!?!? Haha, so that should make my readers happy, and for those of you who haven’t got a clue what Potter Vs. Granger is. . .go to the bottom of this page, find that story, and READ IT!!! Lol…just a suggestion…

Anyway, thank you so much for reading and any and all feedback is VERY much appreciated, even if it’s just a few words, so please let me know what you think!!! Until my next post. . .

STAY RIGHTEOUS!

*~Archie~*