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Listening to... by Jinx333
Chapter 13 : Hallelujah
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 5

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Hogwarts (Year Six)

Sly's POV:

I ran out of the bathroom, jumping up and down on one foot as I put a sock on, and had a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth. I was the epitome of lateness at this point.

"Sly," Delilah called groggily from her bed, pushed the curtains aside, and blinked at me. "Savannah left like two hours ago. Are you going to make it?"

I grabbed a brush, yanked it though my hair, and all but glared at her as I grabbed my bag and tried to tuck my shirt in at the same time. When I made it to the door, Delilah yelled, "You still have the toothbrush in your mouth." I spat it out in the trash bin nearby and closed the door.

"She's so not going to make it," Delilah mumbled and collapsed back into her bed.

"Shoot...shoot," I muttered to myself as I jumped down the steps and sprinted down the hall. When I rounded the corner, I was straightening my tie and then I crashed into something solid. From my position sprawled out on the floor, I wheezed out a stunned, "Shit." Yep, definitely shite worthy. As I sat up, my body groaned in protest and I immediately grabbed for my things. It was bad enough that I was late already, and now this had to happen? "Sorry," I frantically called out to the person I'd basically tackled and I took off without a backwards glance.

"Jeez, Ainsly," a familiar voice responded, gruffly. "Talk about a wake up call." The sound of the voice locked my feet and my knees buckled. "Ainsly!"

"Merlin's sake," I groaned, now officially ten minutes late for class.

"Here you are," James held out my bag and then pulled it away when I reached for it. "Actually, its kind of heavy. I'll carry it for you."

"You don't have to," I replied, embarrassed and avoided his eyes. I should carry my own stuff.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Eyes forward, ya? Or you might bump into something," James stated with a grin spreading across his face as he shouldered my bag.

"Sure," I nodded. A blush heated my face as a silence settled over us, the only sound was the tapping of our footsteps.

"I'm late, too, so we can just blame it on me, ya?" James winked, adjusted my bag on his shoulder, and winced. "What have you got in here? Bricks?"

"Just about," I sighed. "N.E.W.T preparation." I had planned on stopping by the library on my way back from class today, and knew all to well the weight of those books.

"They aren't until next year," he exclaimed in exasperation, throwing his hands up. My face must have been alarmed at his reaction because he laughed. "Ravenclaws."

"Yeah," I shrugged, unashamed of my studying habits. As a muggleborn, it always seemed like I was a few steps behind everyone else. And then there was the fact that I didn't use my wand as often as I should. Delilah always released a long sigh of despair when I chose to "take the hard way" and not use magic, but using it always felt a little foreign, like I was going to get myself into trouble utilizing it. At least reading was something I knew and understood.

"We do have a lot of homework and demands in our classes now, though. My aunt told me it was a lot worse when they we here," James noted, glancing at me with a smile. "Dad never took NEWTs, of course, so he's no help. Mum's brilliant, at least."

We rounded the corner and I quickened my pace, the door to the classroom in sight. When we snuck in the door, our eyes were met with silence and an empty classroom. "Hello?" I asked, the only sound being the echo of my voice.

"They must have dismissed, or something." James walked up and down the rows of desks, humming a familiar tune.

Feeling the cold wood of a nearby desk, my hand slipped off the surface to glance at his face. "Hmm," I murmured, softly, finding his eyes already watching me. My foot faltered as I felt caught off guard by James' intensity.

"Ainsly...there's something..." he trailed off, releasing a sigh, and ruffling his hair as he looked out the window. With a sigh, I pulled out my wand and enlarged the sketchbook that I had been hiding in my jacket pocket. I don't remember when I started drawing, but it's something that always just felt...right. I sketched the outline the classroom's candled lighting, smudged the areas that cast shadow on the wall, and returned to the details of the flickering flame.

"Wow," James' voice interrupted my thoughts and I jumped, forgetting his presence for that moment. "That's brilliant."

I shrugged, embarrassed. "Thank you."

"There is a neat charm that my aunt showed me," James suggested, leaning closer to the drawing. "Want to try it?"

"Sure," I smiled, hoping it was an amazing charm that's highlight the drawing.

"Okay." James grinned down at me, cleared his throat dramatically, and tapped his wand to the sketched details of the flame. He whispered the Flame-Freezing charm followed by, "Waddiwasi," and the flame danced on the page.

"Amazing," I cried with a laugh without bothering to take my eyes off of my sketchbook. "Do you think I could get it to flatten and stay with a Permanent Sticking Charm?"

"Only one way to find out," he smirked with a wink.

Nodding my head, I pointed my wand and stated, "Epoximise." The flame flickered, bent towards the page, and transfigured to become adhesive to the page. Brilliant!

James stared at me with a strange look on his face and gulped audibly. His hands became fidgety, running through his hair and then rubbing the back of his neck.


"Nothing," James shook his head. "You're just...stunning when you do that."

I blushed; my stomach squeezed in a way that was a painful and pleasant ache. "Do what?"

"Smile," he replied, those hazel eyes burning with an intensity I was unaccustomed to.

"Stop it," I mumbled, glaring down at the floor. "It's not funny."

"I wasn't," he protested, and I heard his footsteps inch closer to me. "Um, listen..."

It was at that moment, the door to the classroom swung open. "J," a familiar female voice sang.

On instinct, with chills running through my body like water, I moved away from James. He would side with her, or at least pretend to in order to save face.
"Diminuendo," I whispered with my wand, shrinking my sketchbook to place it safely back in my pocket. My gaze wondered out the window, shuffling towards the door that led into the hallway.

"James!" Isabelle rushed past me and her bag hit me, pushed me into a desk, and caused me to lose my balance and fall to my knees. This woman had an uncanny ability to cause all of my belongings to dump out onto the floor, which this time involved a bottle of ink to explode and splatter on my books, as well as the floor. Same crap...different day.

"Ainsly," James called out, crouching down next to me. "You okay?" I stared back at him, bewildered. He ignored Isabelle?

"She's fine, James." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "She just wasn't looking where she was going."

"You should apologize," he replied, glaring at the floor. Wait a minute...was he?

"Yeah. The loser should apologize to me for running into my bag," Isabelle sang and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It was expensive."

"I meant you, Isabelle."

"What?" She froze, eyes blazing and scowling at me. "You've got to be kidding me. No way!"

"Isabelle," James' voice warned from above me, while his hands stacked my books in a neat pile. My hands, apparently set on autopilot, went through the motions of slowly placing them in my bag.

The silent glare she sent me was equivalent to shoving ice rod into my stomach. "The dance is tomorrow night, James," Isabelle reminded him. "I'll forget this minor hiccup and see you then." And then, making her dramatic exit, she slammed the door to the classroom.

From my spot on the floor, my head was a mess and my knees hurt from falling. However, most of all, I didn't understand what was going on.

"Hey, are you alright? Are you hurt?" James extended his hand out to me, offering to help me up but I hugged my bag to my chest.

"Fine," I said, softly. "I've got to go."

"Hey," James called out, grabbing my hand as I tried to make a break for the door. "Are you going to the May ball?"


"The May ball," he replied, clearing his throat nervously. "Are you going?"

"Oh," I stated, biting my lip. "Um, yeah." Delilah helped me with a really nice silver dress, which she got a little carried away with designing.

"With anyone?" He cringed, opening one eye at me when I studied him in surprise.

"Well, sort o..." I trailed off, confused. I wasn't about to admit my situation with Admirer to James Potter of all people. "I am."

"Oh." He sounded confused. Well, that makes two of us. "Well, have a good time." Weirdly, James' tone was off....

"I've been thinking of breaking up with Isabelle," he said randomly. "I made a poor decision a long time ago based on appearance." He ran a hand over his face, ruffled his hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Was he asking me for some sort of advice? This was so strange, and I clearly didn't understand James at all. Well, at least this James Potter. "Was it because of your fight just now?"

"No," James murmured, sighing like he was exhausted. "That's not it."

"Oh." I hugged my bag tightly to my chest.

"Yeah," James sighed, again, and walked to the door, paused, and smiled at me before leaving.

Day of the May Ball (Hogwarts Year Six)

Sly's POV:

The girl starring back at me in the mirror, clad in a silver dress, was barely recognizable. Delilah had curled and pinned my hair back in an intricate style she insisted was fashionable, but unique to compliment my face shape.

"What do you think?" Delilah asked through a mouthful of hairpins and glanced at Savannah.

"One more," Savannah sighed, slowly touching the right side of her head. Delilah turned my head and stuck another pin in my hair.

"There," Delilah announced proudly. "You look beautiful, Sly. Admirer isn't going to know what hit him."

I gave her a weak smile, uncertainty filling me up inside. "What if..." I turned away, and my eyes searched for the letters to stall for time. Would he be disappointed when we met?

"It will be fine, Sly. Now go," Delilah insisted, and both her and Savannah pushed me out the door. "Don't be out too late," Delilah called out with a laugh. "And have fun!"

However, as my heels clicked on the grounds outside, dark clouds hung solemnly in the sky like a bad omen.


He left me...and it was so dark and quiet. Would he come back? It was a hollow feeling to think that because I didn't want him to come back, but I couldn't move. Every fiber of my being hurt. It hurt to move, to breathe. "Love is not a victory march..." I cried, singing the song in my head.

"And it's not a cry, that you hear at night...It's not somebody, who's seen the light....It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah," I whispered numbly, certain that I was welcoming death at any moment. It was strange that in that moment I recalled what song James Potter had been humming in the classroom. It is said that in times of passion the mind can play on an endless loop, stuck in an endless concentration on one thing. Even if it was just one random, insignificant aspect of my life, it was present. Would I look back one day and see this as a thing that saved me? Or, would this be a mournful dirge?

There were no more tears left in my eyes, and yet the burning sensation still lingered. Air escaped my lungs, and yet each inhaled breath felt forced and empty. I didn't want to die, and yet... living felt unbearable.

Shhh. Just wait, you're going to love this... That's what he had said to me, carrying my limp body with his arms hooked up under my knees and around my shoulders. And then, after being pulled into the Forbidden Forest, there was so much darkness...and blurred pain.

It was half past three when two feminine figures entered the forest carrying a crumpled piece of parchment. One simply called her name, shuffling slower beside the other girl. The forest seemed interminable, the pathways like the black web of some sprawling spider that made them afraid. Then, finally, the crumpled creature in the torn silver dress looked up at them in terror, and began to whimper.

Present (1 Year Post-Hogwarts)

Sly's POV:

"He took my curry?" James stared at me, and then he glanced around for Albus. "That brat," he huffed and rolled his eyes. "What was he even doing here?"

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. So, feeling slightly like a bad person, I shrugged and feigned ignorance.

"Well, alright then." James waved it off, laughing to himself. "So, is this the omelette rice?"

I nodded with a smile. "Yes..." Daisy walked passed the table with two other guests and glared at me. "I mean yes, Master," I corrected myself. "Would you like writing on your omelette rice?"

James beamed, gesturing towards the plate. "Write away, please."

I made a cat face in ketchup. "Ta-da," I announced, hoping it tasted alright. James stabbed a morsel and forked it into his mouth, considered it as he chewed, and then set the fork down. "Not good...Master?" I asked, clearing my throat nervously.

"That's not it," he said with a smile that reached his hazel eyes. "It's good. Just different from anything I've ever had."

"Even the blood sausage?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," James grinned. "Even the blood sausage, which I'll have you know is delicious."

"Sure sure," I said, playfully rolling my eyes. "I'll have to take your word for it because..." I leaned forward, getting closer to the table and James' ear. "That's frankly disgusting..."

James' eyes flickered over my face, paused on my mouth so quickly that I might have imagined it, and winked at me. "I cannot wait for dessert," he said. And for some reason the way he said it made me gulp. "Are you free afterwards?"

I blinked a few times. "Uh, sort of.... Yeah. I don't have much going on," I rambled, fidgeting with the tray in my hands.

"Could I walk you home or something?" James asked, hopeful. "I wanted to talk to you about the other night."

"Sure," I sighed, casually wiping my sweaty palm on my skirt. I bowed, already flushed cheeks burning when I saw the look in his eyes. "I'll bbe bback with your ssundae," I stammered-STAMMERED-and bowed at the waist awkwardly low before shuffling away."

"Wait," James called out my name but I went to hide in the kitchen.

Inhaling deeply I nodded at the small kitchen pantry, sat down inside, and pulled the door closed. I just needed two minutes to get it together. The hell is wrong with me? "Okay, just go out there and say, 'Here you are, James. One cutesy, cutesy sundae."

Before I knew it, Savannah knocked on the door and said, "Sundae." I opened my eyes and ignored the suspicious stare on Savannah's face.

"Here you are," I said with a practiced smile. "One cutsey cutsey sundae."

"Right," she answered, listlessly. Savannah heaved a sigh and jammed two chocolate chips into the sundae for the 'bunny's eyes' and pushed it towards me. "Potter's?"

I nodded quietly, glaring at the ceiling for answers. "He asked to walk me home," I muttered. Inspecting the sundae, I noticed that she'd neglected to put the wafers on for the bunny ears. Without asking I took the package of wafers next to her and placed two in the sundae.


"I haven't told him a definite answer yet," I replied, and frowned at the whipped topping work that Savannah had done. Playfully rolling my eyes, I shook the canister and added extra fluff to the bunny cheeks. There that should be sufficient.

"Mmm," Savannah sighed, and allowed the corners of her lips to twitch upwards. "Have fun."

With a quick nod, I moved out into the dinning area and over to James' table. "Here you are," I smiled, gave a small bow, and placed the sundae down. "One cutesy cutesy sundae."

James stared at the sundae for a long moment, eyes absorbed in the almost nauseating cuteness of it all. I had the feeling it wasn't the first time it rendered someone speechless. "Is that...a chocolate mustache on a hare's face."

"Why, yes it is." I answered; what else was I supposed to say regarding the mounds of ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate, and wafers that molded the adorable face of a bunny.

"How am I supposed to eat this face?" He asked in a stunned voice, raising his spoon once before setting it down again. "Nope. It's certainly impossible."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, folding my arms because I was certain he was teasing me. Daisy coughed and glared at my overheard statement and I rolled my eyes. "I mean...don't be silly, Master."

"How about you help me," James suggested, a faint blush gracing the top of his cheeks. And then he had to smirk at me.

"What?" I was confused; how was I to help him? I couldn't eat it for him.

Daisy was serving the table next to us and, shockingly, was eavesdropping again. She released a delicate sounding cough and waved a spoon suggestively at James, "I would be more than happy to feed that to you, Master. It appears Ainsly is lacking as a maid."

I frowned at the expression on Daisy's face, mock innocence that told me to walk away and let her take care of James Potter. Meanwhile, James just appeared uncomfortable with the situation.

"Um," James began, his tone resigned and for some reason something snapped within me. I would complete my job even if it meant shoving spoonfuls of ice cream down this prat's throat.

"No need, Daisy." I waved her off and knelt down on cushions just below James's booth seat. Her expression morphed into surprise when she realized I was accepting her challenge. My hand lifted the spoon, indented the cheek of the sundae, and brought it to James' lips as causally as one could expect an awkward person such as myself would. Which is why, instead of daintily or Merlin, even seductively, James found himself nearly choking on a chocolate wafer with whipped cream blocking his right nasal passage.

After he'd managed the choking fit, he grabbed for a napkin and started laughing at me. "I'm starting to think I need to wear Quidditch gear around you."

"Hush, Master. You still have ice cream on your nose," I advised, attempting to be causal but couldn't resist the burning embarrassment that warmed my face. In response, James lightly rubbed a napkin to his nose. "Want another bite?"

James' hazel eyes stared at me, unblinking and intense with some emotion that made me squirm. "Uh," he stammered out, all traces of his arrogant smirk gone. Without another word, I slipped another spoonful of the sundae between his lips less aggressively. His pink lips looked soft, and a bit of cream spotted on his bottom lip only to have him flick it up with the tip of his tongue. Taking it all in, I nearly dropped the spoon but, thankfully, reminded myself to remain calm and professional.

"By the way," I said, calling his attention. "Spoon feeding is a extra charge."

"That's fine," he whispered with a gentle smile. His hand reached for the spoon, but I moved it out of his reach and threw him a glare.

"No touching the maids," I smacked his hand away, and then poked my tongue out at him when his expression turned morose. My eyes scanned lightly over his face, taking special note of his lips. Leaning closer, my fingers tenderly ran the spoon over his lower lip to make him lick longingly at the bottom of the spoon to catch the final dribbles. I must have lingered too long on his lips because James' hand came up and cupped mine surrounding the handle of the spoon. He locked eyes with me, digging into the sundae so haphazardly that chocolate streaked the side of my pinky finger. His eyes flickered to those around him, leaned closer to me, turned and covered up my hand from view. Then, he slowly licked the chocolate, making me release an overwhelmed hiss and drop the spoon.

"No," I breathed out and pushed back away from him with all my might. I rose, blushing and avoiding his gaze. "I'm fine. Excuse me for a moment." I all but sprinted into the kitchen, plopped down on a chair, and gawked at my tingling hand. Savannah pushed me into kitchen duty momentarily, and I set to work on making various sundaes. Unfortunately, I couldn't resist the burning blush that covered my cheeks during each sundae construction, so much so that Delilah began throwing me skeptical looks. When I collected my thoughts and felt able to face James again, I walked back out into the dining area and noticed that his booth was empty. With a sigh, I cleaned up the finished dessert, cleaned the table, and walked back to the kitchen.

"Woah, Ainsly." My body stiffened, as a cold hand pressed on my shoulder and familiar warm air rushed into my ear. "You're a maid?"

My eyes settled on the handsome figure that'd been haunting my dreams for the past few years. Ryan, present in the flesh, decided he just could not keep his distance. I turned around, hoping to ignore him once again and venture to the kitchen.

"I saw you feeding Potter over there like some cheap bint," he hissed, grasping my arm painfully. I winced noticeably, the balance of my tray and dirty dishes swaying.

"Let go of me," I spat through clenched teeth. "I-" My efforts to break away seemed useless, despite my persistent struggling.

"I'll let you go as soon as you've served me properly," he squeezed my arm. "Call me, Master."

"Never," I hissed.

"Dressed like that you're looking especially cute," Ryan smirked, dragging me towards him. I readied my foot to stomp at his shin, an effective defense that I'd learned over the years. However, I felt so warm right now, like I'm overheated and cannot catch my breath. Another part of me wanted to sob uncontrollably, it was like I was forced back in time and struggling in helplessness.

"Just because you think she's cute doesn't mean you get to touch her," another voice growled and pushed me behind them protectively. James.

"Jeez, JP. I was just having a bit of fun with her. No need to get your nickers in a twist," Ryan explained, as if it all was one huge misunderstanding.

"I don't find it amusing," James replied, a deadly threat creeping up onto his face.

"James," I whispered, barely audible.

"Are you alright?" James glared in Ryan's direction, who had scurried away to another table that Daisy was covering. He took the tray from my hands and pushed me in the path of the kitchen. When I sat down, James found a glass and filled it with water, pressing it into my palm. I felt pathetically weak, but I drank the chilled water greedily.

"Sorry," James flushed. "About earlier. I shouldn't do things without your permission."

"It's alright," I sighed, blushing because the intimacy of his gaze and his sensation of his mouth was something I had not minded. However, it was awkward and embarrassing.

My boss, Katie, walked in and stared at me. "We're getting slow, Ainsly. Why don't you head out? You're looking a bit peaky."


Sly's POV:

James still planned on walking me home.
"Close your eyes," James said quietly. "Don't open them until I tell you, ya?"

My face feels warm as I sense him nearing my face, "James?"

"Keep them closed. Just a little longer, please." When something slides into my hair, I jump causing James to laugh. "Sorry," he chuckled, sending a warm light breeze onto my cheek. "There. You can open them now."

"It's alright?"

"Yeah," James whispered softly into my ear. When I opened my eyes, James put his arm around me and I heard a shutter sound before I saw James' phone angled towards us. He'd taken a picture of us together!

"Hey," I protested, reaching for his phone. "Why did you take a picture, you prat?"

"Look," he laughed, smiling brightly at me as he showed the picture he'd taken. "I was hoping it'd look nice on you, and I'm glad it does."

I squinted at the picture, ignoring the tomato flush on my face to notice the object in my hair. Upon further inspection, it was an asphodel hair comb. My fingers absentmindedly caressed the curves of the flower, the pale beauty magnified by the contrasting sliver and green. To say it was beautiful was an understatement, but that didn't explain why he was gifting it to me. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to," he shrugged, nonchalant as ever. That's right... He did state that he just did what he wanted a lot of the time. Heaving a big sigh, I stared up at the night sky in restrained frustration. What was I supposed to do with this information? Half the time it felt as if James was simply toying with me, like this is some sort of game. Other times, though, he appeared genuine and heart ragingly affectionate. To say it was confounding was putting it mildly, if anything it was morphing into maddening. I rounded on him, adrenaline pumping as I prepared myself for what I wanted to vent out. He could always just do what he wanted. People had feelings, which he should take into consideration before some poor girl gets hung up on him, has her hopes up, and then heartbroken. Not me, of course, I wasn't foolish but someone of his status and from That's everything that'd I'd prepared myself to say, and then
the image of me not being good enough was replaced by the look in those hazel eyes, because the look this man was giving me. A lingering stare that was making my stomach and heart ache strangely. I waved a hand in front of James' face, certain that I'd elicit a reaction that'd vanish that look. However, his eyes followed my hands without missing a moment only to return to my face.

"Why...why are you looking at me so intensely?" I asked, captivated by his hazel eyes.

"Isn't it obvious, Ainsly?" James' hand reached out, fingers stroking a wavy lock of my hair. "You're the only thing I've ever seen clearly. The only person I can see clearly."

"James..." I trailed off, searching those eyes for the right words. His finger twirled the lock of hair, absentmindedly winding and unwinding it as he smiled softly at me.


"You're confusing," I answered, honestly, and shook my head. "Why'd you give me this?" I touched the hair comb, wondering why the flower felt so unexpectedly familiar.

"It suits you," James offered, after a long pause of consideration. "You work so hard. You always have with everything you do. Is it wrong to be given something just because?" His body language was strange, however, it seemed as if he was holding something back.

I sighed, again, wondering if I was simply imagining that reaction, or if I truly wanted to know if he was concealing something. "Thank you," I smiled, even if they were just words today. His words filled me with happiness and vanished the darkness that's surrounded me tonight.

"You're welcome," James smiled back at me. "I'm glad you like it."

"Mmm," I breathed, quietly thinking as we continued to walk.

"Can I ask you something random?" James requested, glancing away from me.

"Sure," I replied, swinging my arms to be casual, though if only came off as a bizarre demonstration of a penguin preparing for flight.

"Did you fancy anyone when we were at Hogwarts?"

I blushed at his bluntness, but he did say it was a random question. "Actually, yeah..." Should I admit how much of a fool I was for someone on paper?


"Don't laugh though, okay?" My expression must have been severe because James paled considerably.

"I wouldn't laugh," he promised.

"It was in Sixth Year. Someone was sending me letters, and I suppose I was a sucker for good penmanship," I briefly explained. "But it didn't work out."

"Why not?"

I stiffened. That was certainly a topic that I didn't want to venture into. "It just didn't," I said shortly. "It wasn't what I thought it was."

"Oh," James stated, focusing on the ground. "I see. Did you like talking to him though?"

"I did." Admirer was a wonderful dream while it lasted, but it was just that...a dream. And love was a cold and broken emotion for me, especially around that time. Admirer was someone that I once knew, but the vision of him was not what it seemed. Then again, dreams seldom are what they seem. Through all our letters, I felt that I knew Admirer and that when we met he'd love me at once. The way that I always dreamed he would, though I suppose it was just my foolish dream. "But it had to end," I finished the topic firmly and gave James a sad, sympathetic smile for my curtness.

"Thank you for telling me," he replied, sounding hollowed and wounded. "I...apologize if I brought up unsavory memories."

"You didn't do anything wrong, so don't worry about it. You have nothing to apologize for," I said, and for some reason it made him wince.

"Right," he sighed. During our walk, James was quieter than usual, though he did apologize for being a prat earlier and I felt at ease when he gently held my hand. He asked me again if I'd come to the beach party that they were having this weekend, and I accepted.

I suppose I should buy a more suitable bathing suit, as well as pen another letter.


I don't own Harry Potter! And I don't own Hallelujah, obviously. It's been a rough few months...

Thanks and please review!

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