Every parent leaves something behind for their children to remember them by. Lily Evans didn't know, when she left her diary behind, that it would help her son into knowing her and himself…or did she?
Disclaimer: I own nothing. You know it, I know it, so let's just get over it.
And now: on with the fic
Harry Potter and the Knowledge of a Mother
Chapter 5: Lily's Promise
Harry was making his way to the Great Hall completely absorbed in his thoughts. That morning, after having brought Hermione back to her own room, he had managed to avoid her rather magnificently, but that was just because she didn't seek him out. Whether to be glad or upset over this, he didn't know, so he held a mixture of both.
He'd spent the entire morning, from 5:30 on, in the Gryffindor's Forever Remember garden, flying on his trusty Firebolt to get his poor, emotionally abused mind off the girl that haunted his every waking moment. Of course, to no avail. He kept on seeing her face, her swollen lips, the look of absolute pain and fright-for Merlin's sake! Fright! -that painted her features after he'd managed to break away from the spell that her mouth had cast on him.
Yep, avoiding her would have been the best thing to do for a while. Even she seemed to agree with that thought, for she hadn't searched for his company all morning even when-he was sure-she knew perfectly well that he would be perched atop his broom the entire time.
And now, freshly showered and dressed, he was making his way to the end of the Gryffindor table just as the usual feasting amount of food appeared on the platters. He didn't need to look to know exactly where Hermione would be sitting, along with Ron, so he searched an empty place next to anyone that wouldn't have found suspicious his sudden need to sit next to them.
The Stalker Mob cleared a lot of seats upon seeing him nearing, but he completely avoided that section of the table and looked on. The Creevy brothers were all sitting together, Kevin's thug look completely clashing with his brothers', and shuddered at the thought of having to sit with them. They, too, made room for him, and, Harry thought, if worst came to worst, he would have to settle for them.
Thankfully, however, he found that a seat next to Dean, across from Seamus, was unoccupied. That would be a good arrangement, nothing wrong with sitting with two roommates, and their seats were close enough to Ron and Hermione's so that nothing would seem out of place, but far enough to be out of immediate hearing range, which was perfect because it would allow him the relief of not having to acknowledge the two friends that he couldn't bear to sit next to that precise morning.
Of course, Ron would have none of that.
Just as Harry was saluting his roommates, the redhead shouted-unnecessarily, for he was only a few seats away-allowing the entire Great Hall to hear him. "Hey Harry, come over here, we saved you a seat."
No, Ron, he pointed out to himself as he looked over at the pair, you saved me a seat. It was painful, but true. Hermione had stiffened at hearing Ron call his name, and stared at her plate completely avoiding eye contact with the Boy Who Lived. What was even worse was the way Ron leaned comfortably with his whole back against Hermione's side, in complete physical trust of each other, at ease in one another's contact.
He understood they didn't love each other now, but it was like a knife turning in the open wound at the thought that he would never be able to touch her the same way Ron did, as much as he would have liked. To Harry, every touch, caress, or any kind of physical contact with her was so special that he treasured it in small amounts. Greed, like what had taken over him in the earliest hours of the morning, would destroy any kind of relationship he had and would ever have with her. And, honestly, it was like an overdose of a very powerful drug.
Hermione was addictive, but so strong that he had to take her in small amounts or suffer the consequences. Now that he'd tasted her lips, he would suffer withdrawal every moment he was away from her, but seeking her out would only make it worse. However, he had no choice since fate seemed not to favour his plan of avoiding her.
"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked, his eyebrows knit in serious concern for his friend.
Harry snapped out of his thoughts. He must have had a look on his face that said: I'm to be pitied. Well, he didn't want to be pitied. "Nothing," he replied quickly, and sat in the seat across from his friend, picking at his plate of food in much the same manner Hermione had been doing.
Strangely, Harry noticed, Ron seemed to be unawares of his friends' discomfort and the thick tension that hung over their heads. He also seemed unaware of the fact that there was food in front of him, and that he should have been hungrier than usual because of the extremely tiring practice that he'd endured that morning (at his own hand).
Now, that Ron would be unaware of food, was, to Harry and anyone else who knew the youngest Weasley male, a clear neon-blinking beacon to worry. Ron was always aware of food.
He was about to ask what was wrong with Ron, when Hermione finally spoke up, her annoyance clear in her voice. "Instead of staring at her, why don't you go over and ask her to go to Hogsmeade with you tomorrow?" It was then that Harry noticed that Ron had been staring at something-or rather, someone-over at the Ravenclaw table.
Ron was indignant. "Just like that? No way!" And with a humph he turned back in the direction of the Ravenclaws when his eyes grew wide in horror.
Hermione smirked. "Well, she's coming over here, at least ask her to sit with us," she suggested cheekily. If she couldn't have a happily ever after fairy tale kind of relationship, at least let her friend have one.
Ron disagreed. "No bloody way!"
But Krista Perril was already at their table, looking, they all noticed, even lovelier than usual. Obviously, she was trying to catch a certain male's attention. "Hello, Ron," she called with a sincere smile, and then as an after thought, "Hermione. Harry." The two had to bite back the urge to snicker. She was obviously not very aware of their presence, and it seemed as though she really cared little.
"Hi," Ron called, rather loudly, the way he did when he was nervous or talking to a particularly pretty girl. At the moment he was both, so his friends weren't surprised, yet Krista seemed pleased.
Hermione, managing to stay composed despite the fact that Ron's uneasiness amused her to no end, smiled at the girl and cheerfully offered, "Krista, why don't you sit with us?"
She sat down with a smile and said, "I just finished eating, I won't stay long, thanks anyway. Actually I just came to ask Ron something," she admitted, her cheeks flushed a light pink.
Ron perked up at this and sat up, relieving Hermione of his body's bulk. When she sighed heavily, Harry couldn't help but smile at her. In return she blushed, and looked back down at her plate, a pretty smile gracing her lips. Not all hope is lost, they both thought.
"What?" Ron asked eagerly, sitting at the edge of his seat. Oh, yeah, Harry and Hermione had forgotten about him and Krista and their little exchange.
"Would you come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?" Ron was shocked at this, and didn't bother to hide it as he opened and closed his mouth in a rather convincing imitation of a goldfish.
"Huh?" He very intelligently and eloquently put.
"I need your help with something," she replied shyly, but they all understood that the only way Ron would be providing her with anything useful would have been for him to give her a lovely day as her company.
"Okay," he mumbled, as he gained back some semblance of speech and rational thinking.
"Great!" She exclaimed as her smile became radiantly blinding. "I'll see you in Training in a few hours then," she saluted, getting up and walking toward the Great Hall door.
Watching her, mesmerized, "I've got a date with Krista," he whispered whimsically. This was a dream. It was far too good to be true. Things that wonderful didn't happen to Ron Weasley. They happened to everyone else, but not Ron Weasley. He silently prayed for a sign that would tell him this was true.
"It's a miracle!" Hermione exclaimed jovially as she gave Ron's shoulder a slight shove all the while giving him a proud smile. Oh, Merlin! It was true! In dreams Hermione didn't make fun of him the way she just did, and the shove felt real, so this must have been reality!
"When did this happen?" Harry asked confused. He remembered the encounter the two had in the library the day before, but when did things change that much?
Ron seemed as confused as he while giving him a shrug. "I don't know," he started, "it just kind of clicked," he replied.
Again Hermione gave him a playful shove. "Are you planning on leaving your lady alone up until tomorrow?" She asked in a way that much resembled Mrs. Weasley's.
"Uh…" Ron put in again.
"Go take her for a walk or something, you git!" She hissed loudly, pushing him out of his seat and towards the door, where he saw Krista making her way toward the great front door of the castle, probably with the intention of taking a walk, as Hermione had said. Well, he wasn't going to let the know-it-all tell him twice. Without second thought to his friends or his uneaten lunch he raced after the blonde, calling her name.
"Yes, Ron?" She asked, confused, and worried he might have already thought against going on a date with her.
"Um…" he began loquaciously. His hand rubbed the back of his head as his freckles stood out against his blushing cheeks. "Do you…want to take a walk around the lake with me or something?" He stuttered nervously.
Again, that pretty, sunny smile of hers graced her lips. "I'd love to," and so without a word they made their way outside. They were quiet until they reached the water bank of the lake and started to walk its perimeter and Krista spoke. "How's it going with those two?" She asked curiously.
Ron blinked. It took him a second to realize that she'd just asked of Harry and Hermione. He was too intent on pondering his luck. "Oh," he mumbled, his elation dropping a notch. "I don't know, today they're weird. I think something happened last night," he concluded, speaking more to himself, than to the girl beside him.
"Why do you think that?" Krista asked with knit eyebrows. Having always paid attention to all three members of the Trio, she was usually pretty aware of any change in their mood or behavior just by looking at them, but that morning she'd been more preoccupied in getting her guts together to ask Ron to Hogsmeade.
"Well, this morning, I went down to the garden, to warm up for Quidditch practice. Being Captain I usually make sure I'm the first one there, but this morning I wasn't. Harry was already there doing all kinds of crazy stunts. I mean, he's usually pretty reckless, so it wasn't surprising that he was doing those sort of things, and I'm glad because if he didn't he wouldn't be the machine that he is, but usually, he saves the real moves for the games, and only practices a couple a day," he explained.
"And today?" She encouraged him.
"He was just…going all out! I mean, he wasn't holding anything back! And he was covered in sweat all the way through his robes, so I'm guessing he'd been there for at least an hour. Something happened," he told her. "He only does that when he wants to let out some frustration," he explained. "And today…today he was a monster! He caught the Snitch seven times in two hours! That's got to be like a world record or something! And he wouldn't stop! All through practice he wouldn't take a break, and even when we finished practice, he wouldn't leave the garden. When he came down to lunch just now his hair was wet," he mused, demonstrating that, even though he ignored his food, he didn't ignore his friends. He just made it look like he ignored them. "That probably means that he just finished taking a quick shower before running down to lunch, and what's worse it that he didn't eat anything at all, even after all those hours of flying," he finished, now seriously starting to worry that his friends were ruining themselves in the stupid game of 'I'm not going to admit I love him/her.'
Krista had to admire him for that. One of the reasons for which Harry and Hermione had been so miserable the last couple of years had been Ron, but he cared for his friends, and now that he knew he only thought of Hermione as a sister, he was completely aware of the pain he'd caused and was ready to make amends by helping them. He was truly worried, so she took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in support. "And what of Hermione?"
He took a deep sigh. Before answering he thought for a second. "When I got back from practice I wanted to ask her if Harry's behavior had something to do with his Mum's diary, but I couldn't find her anywhere. She wasn't in the Memory Garden to watch us practice, which isn't really that weird since she only comes and watches us every once in a while, for the important games and stuff, and she wasn't in the common room or in the library, or any of her other usual spots. I even checked Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," he told her exasperated.
She quirked an eyebrow at this. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" She asked both confused and amused at once.
Remembering she didn't know the story he brushed it aside, "Oh, I'll tell you that some other time, it's a really long story," and he continued on to his friends' actions. "Anyway, since I didn't know where to look I checked her room, and she was there, still asleep. She was clutching that bloody diary and she was crying," he told her.
She gasped at hearing this. "She was crying in her sleep?" And, as she saw Ron's nod, she remembered Hermione's exhausted eyes and tired demeanor, despite her cheery attitude toward her.
Ron went on. "Anyway, I woke her up, but then she started acting weird. She wouldn't talk to me; she shoved me out of the room saying she needed to get ready for lunch, even if lunch was pretty far off. I think she wanted to just eat as fast as she could and run off without meeting Harry, since he's usually always kind of late to lunch anyway. Might have worked, too, if the elves hadn't served so late today," he explained. "You should have seen her stiffen up when I called to Harry to come and sit with us. Neither of them ate anything, and they wouldn't look at each other for anything," he finished.
Krista now wished she hadn't asked to begin with. She knew that Ron felt guilty over the fact that he'd caused so much distress to his own friends, and she knew that, now, he wanted to help them along. But she, as well as he, knew that there was something holding them back. Something that scared them. She also knew that the previous night something must have happened to enhance those fears in one or the other, or maybe even both of the two.
"I hope they straighten things out," she whispered out loud.
"Yeah, me too," Ron mumbled.
She looked up at him. He was miserable. "Don't worry," she reassured him, placing her arms around his lean waist, marveling at how sharp and chiseled he was. "If they can't work things out for themselves, we'll help them along, now won't we?" She asked him rhetorically, a cheeky grin on her face.
She was contagious. He grinned, too, lowering his face to her level as to place his forehead against hers, leaning his arms on her shoulder, "I don't think you're leaving me much of a choice, here, now are you?" He joked.
She gave a pretty little shrug, "Maybe," she replied, and her grin broadened, "but would you refuse me even if you did?"
She definitely knew him far too well.
Without waiting for his response she brought her lips to meet his for the first time. I couldn't refuse you if I tried, Ron answered mentally.
°*°
Though it would be expected that Ron's sudden departure would leave behind eerie and uncomfortable silence, this was not the case. As a matter of fact, the Great Hall was in a complete state of chaos as it was discovered that the delay in the delivery of everyone's meal had been a lovely little blue bundle of trouble known as Cicciobello.
After he'd drawn a rather fantastic imitation of the Venus de Milo on Snape's chest (many did not appreciate having to watch the doll forcefully undressing the living mozzarella that was their Potions professor) despite the greasy man's desperate attempts at evasion, he was now performing the most unlikely striptease for McGonagall and Trelawney while Dumbledore looked on amused. Turned out the ancient headmaster was quite fond of the devil that possessed the plastic doll.
Even Harry and Hermione, who had been, up until a few moments earlier, wallowing in their own self-pity, had to laugh at what was going on. Professor McGonagall seemed particularly shocked at what was taking place as she couldn't take her eyes off the Cicciobello, which was dancing a rather unusual sort of slow bump and grind to Joe Cocker's "You can leave your hat on." Nobody knew where the music was coming from, and only the Muggle raised knew the tune, but nobody really cared.
Harry found himself giving Hermione a wide grin, which she returned shyly. Yes, The Kiss had strained what they'd had quite a bit, but it could still be mended, and Hermione was the first to try. "Do you want to read some more?" she asked, referring to the diary.
"Common room's going to be full until the Training starts," he answered reasonably.
She thought for a second. "We could go to my room," she said boldly, hoping that Harry wouldn't take this the wrong way. Which is the wrong way, anyway?
Harry seemed surprised at first, but then, standing up and nodding, he mumbled an "Okay" and they made their way to the Gryffindor tower.
Hermione's room was warm and welcoming, but there weren't many places where two people could sit close enough to read a diary together. There was only one chair, which she kept at her study desk, and her window seat could only fit one person. That only left her bed, which was big enough to hold an army troop, but was she ready to sit on that bed alone with Harry? Oh, Merlin, was she thinking like a fool! She'd been on a bed with Harry countless times in their friendship, why would now be any different? Because she was in love with him? Bloody hell! She'd always been in love with him, so what was different now? Absolutely nothing.
With this resolve, she sat at the head of her bed with her legs crossed Indian style, leaving quite a bit of space on her side so that Harry could sit close to her, but not dangerously so. He did so, laying down with his head on one of her fluffy pillows, his body stretched out and his legs crossed at the ankle.
There, same as always, they both thought, trying to ignore the physical tension.
Shaking her head, Hermione began to read.
September 1
Today, I came back to Hogwarts for my fifth year, but my excitement was considerably dampened today. Not only because of what happened with James last year (I still can't believe I actually KISSED HIM!), but my worry still lies with him.
I've had visions this summer. Of course, the werewolf, and the Marauders with the animals were still there, but this summer a new one haunted me, full of pain and despair. And it was eerily clear. I think my vision came as the event was happening, if it was happening.
And it was a vision I had while I was awake, therefore stronger than others. It sent me into a trance for quite a long time, worrying my parents to death.
It showed me James, despairing, howling in pain, crying out to people as an estate burned in front of him. He called out to his parents, to his sister, telling them that he would avenge them, telling them that he wouldn't let them down. Sirius was there, holding him back from possibly running head first into the flames, as he angrily shouted at the Black Mark that glowed above, brighter then the flames, his mouth releasing threats and curses and angered shouts. And he cried, horrible, thick, desperate tears that couldn't be held back and couldn't sooth him or appease him in any way.
And I felt it all. His anger, his despair, the sorrow for the little girl that would never live to see Hogwarts, or buy her first wand, or receive her first kiss. The mourning for his parents and all those of his kin.
I don't know how he made it out, but he was the only one left.
I didn't see James on the Hogwarts Express, or heading toward the horse-less carriages, but I saw him at the Sorting Ceremony. He was there, with the rest of the Marauders, saluting the new Gryffindors, talking, joking, eating, and laughing. But when he turned and saw me…I don't know what he must have thought, but he became sad, and then angry (at himself I think) and turned away from me. But his eyes were empty, and they had been so even before his sudden change of mood. I'm afraid my vision was true. His family is gone. Dead.
We didn't speak at all tonight.
They read of how, for days, James avoided her, of how, the day after their return, she tried to speak to him, and he ran off with weak excuses.
I had another vision of James and their animals, this time different. Instead of being at the Whomping Willow, they were in front of the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. Remus, Sirius, and Peter weren't there anymore, but the wolf, the dog, and the mouse were, and they were all looking at James expectantly.
He turned to me, and gave me the saddest of smiles, then, he turned back to his deer, next to him as always, and melted into the creature until there was no more James, he'd bonded with the deer that was now looking at me the same way James had been. And then the deer stood on its hind legs, turning up to scream at the full moon, before running off in Hogsmeade followed by the rest of animals.
I can't be sure of its meaning, but it scares me, most of all because, when I woke up in the middle of the night, a full moon watched me sympathetically from outside the window.
James's avoidance of her had lasted now a whole of five weeks, and Lily was becoming dangerously worried. Finally, one day, she managed to get him alone after classes and before lunch, set on confronting him.
He looked upset, but I wasn't going to let this stupid game play on until we became total strangers. "Are you upset with me because I kissed you?" I didn't think that was the case, but I wanted to know about that, too.
He shook his head slowly and said in a quiet monotone, "No." I'd never heard James speak like that before. So empty of life and vitality. So unlike him, who shone as brightly as the sun with the vivacity of someone who blessed every breath his life permitted him to take.
But I shook my head to clear my mind. "Why are you avoiding me?" Oh, Merlin! Why did I have to say it with such a depressed, beaten voice? Okay, yes, his avoidance of me was driving me mad, but he didn't need to acknowledge it any more than he already certainly did.
He stared at me for a long time, and I was afraid I might have offended him in some way.
"Because," he finally spoke, "I hate it that when you look at me I don't feel so mad and angry anymore," and that was all he had to say.
Maybe it was because I always defended him, and helped him when he was in need, but I was a soothing presence in his life, and that hindered his chance at hating whatever had-now I was certain-killed his family and left him an orphan full of hatred.
I couldn't say anything after that, because the words to sooth him hadn't been invented yet, so I wrapped my arms around his tall lanky frame and held him close to me. He wouldn't hold me in return, at least not right away, but soon I felt him shaking in my embrace, and as he began crying, he held onto me so tightly that it felt as though I was his only link to his sanity, and he began to sob. The loud, uncontainable sobs of someone who has nothing left in the world but this and his wish to bring peace to his family who was gone.
And as I held him, I made a promise to myself, that I am now leaving in this diary in proof of my determination. I'm going to make him live again. I'm going to bring the light back into his eyes and let him know that he's not alone, and that, even if he doesn't love me, even if he had a girlfriend now, I'll always love him, and I'll always be there for him to bring that life loving smile of his back to his face.
But as I held him, I had the horrible sense of foreboding that sometimes washed over me, and it was telling me that we, both of us, and probably together, would die at the hands of Voldemort, the Dark Lord.
But, even if that is the case, I don't care. As short as our lives will be (hopefully not that short) I promise onto everything that is holy and important in my life that I will make him live the life that most would not achieve in thousands of years.
I promise.
Harry and Hermione were quiet for a long time, marveling at the selfless love she had for James, at how she wished for him to be happy no matter what, despite the fact that he already had someone to love him (although, to Harry and Hermione, it felt as though he'd become Kiana's boyfriend simply to avoid Lily).
And in the thoughtful silence the SLAM of Ron opening the portrait hole while pushing it open hard enough to make it bang and nearly crack against the wall almost produced the couple residing the room a good stroke.
Sauntering in, he made his way to the bed and threw himself down with a contented sigh.
"And why are you here?" Hermione asked icily in a way of greeting. She was really getting annoyed at how Ron always barged in at the most inopportune time, interrupting cathartic moments that she wished she could treasure without the memory of him yelling, or banging doors, or sighing deeply while looking like the love sick puppy he was.
Her question brought Ron, slightly, back to his senses. "Training's going to start soon," he told them in reply.
Oh. Harry and Hermione had practically forgotten about that. Not that they didn't enjoy watching Dumbledore as he taught them how to ward off Death Eater spells and counter curses and the like while using Snape as a demonstration dummy. They were just wrapped up in other things to remember.
Neither of the two was really listening to the entire enthralling retailing of Ron's first kiss with Krista, but when he moved on to the second, third, fourth, fifth, and on, Harry started to get a little annoyed. He grabbed the pillow behind his head and whacked Ron's freckled nose with it. The red head sputtered an indignant "Hey!", and reached for two pillows, one which he used for Harry, the other for Hermione.
Needless to say, this instigated an all out pillow fight. Laughs, giggles, and harmless taunts were thrown around amongst the feathers ripping out of the cushions, as the threesome enjoyed their, now, fully mended friendship.
A particularly strong whacking from Harry's pillow threw Ron off balance, and he fell on top of Hermione, while she laughed and punched him and called him a pervert. Harry fell back on the bed laughing next to her, and Ron jumped at the opportunity that had presented itself to him.
"Wrong guy, Mione, I'm already taken," he called out laughing, and pulling himself up, grabbed Harry and pushed him on top of her.
The couple stopped laughing instantly, and, despite the fact that Harry seemed to be frozen to the spot, their eyes wondered everywhere, but tried desperately not to stray onto each other's faces.
Harry was glad for Ron's presence, because his barely restrained giggles gave him enough sense to push off and say, "Let's go to training."
And this stopped even Ron's laughter.
Yep, he realized, something definitely had passed on between the two the previous night. But what? Neither of them seemed ready to speak yet, and they probably wouldn't for a very long time either.
He walked the halls several paces ahead of them, trying to give them the privacy they needed, but he was pretty sure it was to no avail.
Behind him, their silence was deafening, to the two of them most of all. Hermione kept on fidgeting, trying to gather the courage to take his hand for the length of the walk, but never managing to. She kept on chastening herself, saying that she'd held his hands plenty of times, but the look on Harry's face as he was sprawled on top of her, and the pain, etched into his feature after he'd torn his lips away from hers a few hours prior kept on haunting her.
"Why did you break it off with Krum?" Harry asked suddenly out of the blue. In front of them, Ron accidentally jammed his toe against one of the steps as his step faltered at Harry's question. That subject had been taboo since Hermione had first announced her break up, and made it perfectly clear that neither of them was to bring up the subject again.
Ron noted, however, that she hadn't seemed offended. After a moment's silence she spoke. "I already told you Harry, that my diary wrote of someone else at that time. I couldn't stay with him, when I was in love with another," she replied.
Harry had guessed she'd say something like that, but the question had burst out of him in the midst of his jumbled thoughts. "Who?" Doh! He was mentally jamming his head against a wall the second he'd said that. Argh! His thoughts needed to calm down. Each time a stray mental question passed his mind, his mouth got away from him.
She was surprised that he asked. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when no sound came out. She tried again, but the result didn't change. Why couldn't she just say it? Why couldn't she tell him that she was in love with him? Maybe this just wasn't the right time, she thought as she looked at Ron ahead of her.
Finally, she spoke. "I'm…not ready to say it…yet," she concluded.
Harry knit his eyebrows but nodded in understanding. "Okay," he mumbled. "I'm sorry," he apologized for prying.
She felt the compelling need to explain herself. "I'm afraid I'm not good enough for him."
Harry looked at her in surprise. "Hermione," he started, "you're the best." He told her. "Whoever he is, you're too good for him. And if he doesn't realize that he's a prat," he told her.
She didn't say anything, only turned her gaze to the floor and kept walking behind Ron. I know that you're too good for me, he told her with his mind, but she didn't hear him.
To be continued.
Author's note: I received a lot of complaints about Ron being evil in my story. I'm sorry, it was not my intention to make him seem so. I tried to write him off as bitter of what Harry and Hermione were developing, and scared of ending up to be the third wheel, but apparently I failed. I'm sorry, but I hope he's redeeming himself in your eyes now.
Any comments, constructive criticism, or flames welcome at Robbygal@hotmail.com, or simply leave a review at ff.net. Go ahead, I'll just have a BBQ.
Thank you
Pearl