Disclaimer: Sorry, don’t own the characters, just the plot. Bows down to JKR in all her magnificence.

Night at the MuOM
Part One

She hoped it would be an interesting night tonight.

Ginevra Weasley stood just inside the entrance doors of the Museum of Magic. She plastered a small smile on her face, folded her hands demurely in front of her and calmly waited for the guests to arrive.

Ginny had been at the Museum for a year now. Her official title was Museum Assistant. It sounded slightly prestigious, but in all honesty, it meant that she had to do all the mundane grunt work that the older and more educated witches and wizards did not want to do. For starters, her job tonight was to point guests in the direction of the Cloak Check. Sometimes she’d get to point them toward the loo.

Very exciting stuff.

In truth, Ginny was only a year out of Hogwarts and had been extremely lucky to get a position here. It was a jumping off point she’d often tell herself. A place to network and get some experience in her field of study, but so far, it had lead nowhere except to picking up discarded Vilion Champagne flutes that the caterers had missed after receptions, such as the one that was about to begin.

Giant corporations and consortiums, as well as groups of obscure professionals (once, Ginny had supervised an event where all the guests had been Displaced Grindylow Barristers) liked to rent out the museum in the evenings for big dinners or receptions. They would often eat a house-elf catered dinner and wax poetic about what a great company they were, or how important such and such was to the future of the wizarding world (though seldom it really was). They cared naught for the museum or the treasures it held. It was only the prestige of the museum itself that mattered. It spoke of culture and education, and was something the guests wanted to associate themselves with, despite their lack of actual interest in the history it held.

Ginny had surmised that their lack of enthusiasm about history began early. Most likely it was at Hogwarts, when they had all been forced to hear Binns drone on for hours in History of Magic class. Yes, he certainly knew how to make the past seem as dull as a worn-out knut. But this was her job, take it or leave it, and she would much rather be working here, in these majestic surroundings, then stuck at Madame Malkin’s, trying to entice shoppers into buying the matching skirt and robe set.

Tonight was going to be more interesting than most nights.

It was a birthday celebration. Normally the museum didn’t rent out for things like this, but hey they couldn’t be too picky, throw us enough galleons and we’ll consider anything, as long as we can get the new exhibit space we’ve been saving up for.

The birthday boy was turning 120, a ripe old age indeed. He was now applicable for a senior’s discount at the barber’s or the first Tuesday of every month at the grocer’s. But this man, Henry Midas Wolfboro Cambury, would never use these new privileges. For he was a member of the Wizarding elite. New money, for sure, but a member nonetheless. His money had been made during the British Industrial Revolution, a mere two hundred years previous. Old Money families flocked to him though, wanting to increase their own riches by investing in his many forays. Ginny had heard that the Zabini’s had doubled their fortune in a decade by getting on Cambury’s good side.

Yes, it will be an interesting night tonight.

Wizards in formal dress robes, with witches on their arms dressed in gauzy chiffon, began to sweep into the lobby at seven thirty. A fashionable time to begin a party most thought, neither too early nor too late (especially considering the advanced age of some of the guests).

Ginny became slightly nervous as the guests continued to enter. They completely ignored her, not even a ‘hello’ or ‘good evening’ as she greeted them. They pretended as if she wasn’t there at all.

Peculiar behavior.

At most other events, guests would be polite, ask a few vague questions and wander off in search of free butterbeer or firewhiskey. But the guests tonight were a whole different cauldron of newts. The lobby was now full of cheek-kissing, nose-sniffing, pureblooded Elites. The expensive cologne was stifling, as was the haute-couture that was dripping off the ladies. She recognized many of the faces in the room. The Malfoys (minus Lucius, of course) were there, shadowed by a reluctant Lord Snape. The Zabinis. the Notts, the Aberfoyles (of Wiltshire), the Darlingtons, the Greengrasses and so forth. Ginny had never in her life felt so much like ‘the help’ before.

The lobby was filling to capacity and Ginny was pushed, by the socializing crowd, into a corner near the gift shop. She felt outclassed and underprivileged by merely standing in the room. She nervously twisted her signet ring around on her right hand ring finger. The crest embossed on the rather plain ring identified her as part of the ‘wizarding elite’ that she was now being penned in by. Passed on through the females of her mother’s line, it showed that she was a pureblooded witch of a rare and important line. The ring itself could be traced back to the eleventh century.

The continued existence of the ring proved that the women in her family knew what history was. They prided themselves on it, recounting the tales of their foremothers to their young daughters as one would normally tell a bedtime fairy tale. Females were seldom born into this line, and those that were, always held a special place within the family. It was Ginny’s fascination in the line of headstrong and ebullient women that had led to her passion for all things ancient. Not so much the thing, but more the story it held. She intended to research methods to charm items into revealing their stories. Experimental work was already being done and she wanted to get in on the ground floor and contribute.

Ginny decided to try and squeeze through the throngs of party-goers to get to the staff room and a much needed break. They were all distracted anyway, doing a toast for their dear, money-grubbing, Henry. She was doing well, and made it through the majority of them without disruption. However, just as she was about to slip through to the hallway that led to the staff room, her ring, loosed from the constant twisting, fell onto the highly polished black marble at her feet, and rolled between set after set of shiny black shoes and deadly looking stilettos. It stopped when it hit a pair of dragon hide loafers, casual and elegant, and winked out of sight, the hem from the man’s dress robes hiding it from view.

A quick surge of panic flooded Ginny, she couldn’t lose that ring, her ancestors would not only roll in their graves but curse her until her dying day as well, and probably beyond that, she would bet. Her eyes which had been glued to the rolling ring, followed the hem of the robes that hid it, up towards the face of the man she would have to ingratiate herself to, in able to get her ring back. She squeaked as she saw the pointed aristocratic nose and the platinum blonde hair tied in a chignon at the nape of his neck. Draco Malfoy, now the current Lord Malfoy, stood listening with a bored expression to the speech of the birthday boy, completely unaware of the piece of jewelry that had decided to play hide and seek using his expensive Giabriatti formal robe.

Ginny crept through the crowd towards Malfoy, willing herself to act as professional as possible and thereby creating the least amount of commotion. She would simply ask politely for it. She was his equal, if not in wealth, at least in wizarding status, and she could do this. She made it to him and hesitantly tapped his shoulder.

“Excuse me, Lord Malfoy.”

He turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at her, not instantly recognizing her. He was not used to ‘the help’ accosting him as such, even if it was as fetching as this girl in front of him was.

“If you would be so kind, my ring has fallen beside your shoe.”

“Indeed?”

He spoke softly to her, drawing no attention away from the droning speech coming from Henry. He bent down and carelessly pushed his robe away, seeing the glint of the small signet ring lying there. Picking it up slowly, he brought it up to examine it.

‘What was a servant girl doing with a crest ring. Unless she was..’

He glanced up at the girl again, who was now biting her lower lip, waiting for the return of her beloved heirloom. Yes, yes it was. Funny, how after a couple of years people can change so much.

“Here you are, Miss Weasley.” He said with a faint smirk residing on his lips, placing the ring carefully in her open palm.

“You ought to be more careful with that. There aren’t so many of those around anymore.” He quietly admonished.

Ginny watched as he subconsciously twisted his own signet ring in a wistful gesture. With her keen eye for antiques, she could tell it was a replica. A very good and expensive one, but it didn’t hold nearly the age that hers did. She itched to ask what had happened to his, knowing how sacred the items were to those of pureblooded lineage. Blast the history detective in her, this was neither the time nor place to ask. Knowing how curiosity killed the kneazle, she bit her tongue and said a reserved ‘thank you’, inclining her head slightly to him and slipping out of the crowd towards the staff room.

The evening wore on.

Cases upon cases of Vilion Champagne were drunk and the crowd got rowdier. Severus had left hours ago, having only come to stop Draco’s incessant badgering about turning into a ‘reclusive old dunderhead’. Draco, now without Sev to converse with, had fallen into a state of complete boredom. He had had to attend because of his position in the family and as an escort for his mother. She absolutely loved these things and would be here until midnight, gossiping and toasting, whirling about with the crème of society.

And that meant he would be here until the end as well.

The only interesting thing that had happened was encountering the littlest Weasley and rescuing her ring from the trampling hordes. He wondered what she was doing here of all places. Obviously working, but as to why here, he had no clue and was mildly intrigued by the young woman she had become. He mused about her professional and refined demeanor. She was obviously comfortable working in a grand atmosphere such as this and dealing with all manner of elite witches and wizards.

Working his way over to the bar, he obtained a glass of Hogwan Brandy and slipped out the main doors to enjoy his drink and an imported cigar. A guilty pleasure that he didn’t often indulge in.

He walked around the building, hoping to find something, such as a rock, that he could transfigure into a comfortable seat.

What he found was even better.

Ginevra Weasley was leaning against a bench, holding a steaming cup of tea. It looked like she had had a long night. She started slightly when he sat down beside her. She watched as he pulled out and lit his cigar, dipping the end into his brandy before every puff. He was quiet, contemplative. Very different then the Draco she had known at school. Then again, she hadn’t really known him at school very much, just as he had not known her.

They had been dragged into the war by their families, and war can do very strange things to people. What exactly his part had been in the war, she wasn’t sure. But he seemed thick as thieves with Snape through his seventh year, and she assumed that he had turned spy as the Potions master had done.

Turning back to her tea, she took a comforting sip, willing the people in the museum to leave as soon as possible. It was already 11:30pm and she would have to clean up and wait for the caterers to leave before she could apparate home. It was going to be a long night if they continued to revel.

“Do you never get tired of it all?” she asked the man seated beside her quietly.

He smiled slightly. “Why do you think I’m out here, Miss Weasley?”

“Ginny, please.”

“Draco, then.”

“Sometimes I imagine that it would be nice, to once attend one of the galas thrown here, instead of having to work at them.”

“Really?”

“Ye-e-s, but after an evening like this, I can’t imagine having to act like them, no offense meant.”

“Of course not.”

He considered her, a pretty, intelligent, pureblooded witch with a position at the acclaimed MuOM. In his opinion, his past behavior towards her family was negligible, it had been war and certain appearances had had to be kept up in his line of work. Now, he was finding himself rather interested in the young witch.

“I daresay, the life of a socialite is entirely exhausting. My mother, bless her heart, is terribly fond of engagements such as this. She gets to flit about, and kiss everyone she loves, gossip about everyone she hates, and have and all-round brill evening. I’m sure I won’t see her til midday tomorrow, if that.”

Ginny grinned into the night.

“That’s the trouble, I was never brought up to do much flitting. A tragic oversight on my pureblood education, no doubt.”

Draco chuckled.

“Yes, very tragic. Well, as you can see, I never much cared for flitting either. Didn’t really suit me, nor Severus either, judging from his early exit tonight, the lucky sod. I fear I’ll turn into that godfather of mine one day, just have to move my rooms to the dungeons and wash my hair less I suppose, and the transformation will be complete.”

They both laughed softly at the image created and were silent for a few moments, Ginny sipping her tea, and Draco smoking. Both opened their mouths to ask a question at the same time.

“Why are you working here?”

“What happened to your ring?”

They laughed again at their eagerness. Feeling comfortable in each other’s company. Ginny checked her wristwatch, the second hand was ticking towards ‘work’ and away from ‘break’. She sighed and started to get up.

“I’m sorry Draco but I have to get back in there, who knows what’s going on, what with the large amount of liquor that’s been consumed, I’ll be lucky if I don’t find a bunch of splinched elegantly dressed legs walking around. Feel free to stay out here, the rest of the staff have already had their breaks so you won’t be bothered.”

“Thanks Ginny, I think I will. Will you be here until the end tonight?”

“Yes, and for a little while afterwards, supervising the clean-up.”

“Good, that will give me time to take my mother home.”

“Pardon?”

“I intend to walk you home. Our conversation isn’t finished. I believe you still have to ask me about my ring, and I still have to ask you about why you’re at this old place.”

He smiled at her, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass, his eyes seeking her approval.

“I’ll wait out front.”

She grinned and headed through the staff door behind her.

Yes, tonight was definitely more interesting than most nights.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Author’s etc: Originally a one-shot, this story has grown and will soon be a two-part chronicle.
Thanks for reading and reviewing… Cheers, sweetp.


Note to Cabal: Hope I've fixed the formatting problem, saved as plain text, then copied and pasted, looks fine when I preview it...have also fixed canon name, as suggested, thanks!

Another Night at the Museum of Magic

Part Two


“Finally, that’s everything,” sighed Ginny happily, as she walked up the ramp that led to the staff room.

It was now going on one in the morning, and she had finally sent the rest of the MuOM staff home. Overall, the event had gone off without a hitch, lasting until just past midnight, which Ginny was infinitely thankful for. It had taken less then an hour for the staff to survey and then amend the damage wrought on MuOM by the crème of the wizarding society. The carpets were now clean, the exhibits were, thankfully, all in one piece, and the caterers had packed up and left minutes earlier, careful to take all the empty (and not so empty) bottles with them.

Upon entering the staff room, she picked up her long cloak and bag, and then made her way down to the security desk to sign out.

“Well, Ramses, another one over, eh?” she said, speaking to the old guard on duty.

“Aye lass,” he agreed. “Quite the to-do, wasn’t it? I’ve na seen one like that in a dozen years to be sure.”

Ginny poked her head over the barrier that surrounded the desk. She grinned when she noticed a plate of party leftovers “Good, I see you snagged a little snack for later. Well then, I’ll see yo-”

A knocking on the glass front doors interrupted them. Ramses stood up and peered into the darkness.

“Ah, looks like one of the young gentlemen from the party tonight, luv. P’rhaps he forgot something?”

“No, he’s just come back for me. He’s offered to escort me home.” She said, her cheeks pinking.

The security guard looked at her, skeptically. After all, he was in charge of the safety of the museum and all who were in it. This speck of a girlie looked awfully fragile to him. “You’re sure about tha’ lass? I wouldna want ta see you in harm’s way.”

But Ginny was already on her way to the door, “Don’t fret Ramses, he’s an old school chum. But thanks for worrying about me; you’re an angel, as always. G’ night.” And with that she spelled the locked front door open and headed out to meet Draco.

He was still dressed in his party clothes, but now he wore a dark heavy wool cloak over them. It was getting rather chilly at night, now that September was ending. Ginny walked over to him and tipped her head sideways, observing him, with a twinkle in her eye. “Shall we?” she inquired.

Her escort nodded politely to her, and taking a chivalrous tone he spoke: “To where are we headed, Miss Weasley? To the nearest Apparition point perhaps, or are you somewhere close by?”

Ginny smiled faintly and stifled a yawn. “Well, I usually Apparate, but I’m not too far away, if you feel like a stroll.”

Draco shrugged his shoulders carelessly, as if to say ‘sure, why not?’

“We have a bit of a walk ahead of us, if that’s all right. I’m right behind my brothers’ shop at the north end of Diagon Alley. Do you know it?”

The two started walking to the end of Historic Alley towards the ivy covered gate that led into Muggle London; from there it was a good dozen blocks away to the Leaky Cauldron and then into Diagon Alley.

“I think anyone who has walked within a pitch length of that fine establishment is aquainted with it,” he chuckled. The smoke and continuous fireworks, not to mention the gaggle of children swarming the general area, make it quite, how should I put this?” He paused and started thinking out loud “No, no, blatantly obvious would be too understated, hmm. No,” he raised his eyebrows slightly in mock exasperation, “I find I’m at a loss, I don’t believe the English language actually has a word that can describe it.”

Ginny giggled slightly at the honest description of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes storefront. It was always full to bursting with little witches and wizards, if it weren’t for the strong silencing charm around her flat, she’d never get any peace.

“Well, I suppose when you put it that way it’d be difficult to miss. I just never figured someone like yourself would notice.”

“Now we get to the heart of it, ‘someone like me,’” he commented.

“I didn’t mea-“

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I know what you mean. One of those upper class, nose in the air, pureblood aristocrats.” He grimaced sardonically, “It’s rather humorous really, four years ago I would have fit right in with all those tossers tonight, I would have simpered and toasted and enjoyed every minute, but now, as I said earlier I’ve become a sight too much like Severus, uncomfortable in most places and with most people.” He looked down at his shoes on the dark pavement.

“You’re not uncomfortable now though,” she observed.

“No-oo, you’re right, for once I am not.” He smiled faintly in the darkness.

They continued walking in a companionable silence until they reached the gate, which Draco unlatched with a tap of his wand. He held it open for Ginny to walk through, and followed behind her making sure the magical gate had locked behind them both.

“So, why the Museum of Magic, Ginny?” Draco inquired. “I would never have pegged you for a historian back at Hogwarts, I thought you’d be on with Holyhead by now.”

Smiling, Ginny replied, “Was that a compliment, Lord Malfoy?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, and thanks. I did look into pro Quidditch, and a couple scouts did express an interest however…“

“However?”

“We-ell, I just didn’t feel like I could devote my life to Quidditch. I mean, it’s just Quidditch. Fun and all but-” she shrugged.

“Just Quidditch.” He shook his head in amazement. “Just Quidditch. How can you say that! Didn’t you see the Arrows last week? That dive for the snitch in the third hour was unbelievable.”

Ginny slowed her pace and rolled her eyes slightly. Boys. “Well, I guess I just wasn’t as attached to it as some. Speaking of, you weren’t the world’s worst Seeker either.”

“Sure felt like it sometimes,” bemoaned Draco. “No, I knew professional Quidditch wasn’t for me, and not just because The-Boy-Who-Constantly-Beat-Me, well, constantly beat me. I had responsibilities I couldn’t ignore, especially mother and the managing of the estate. Being Lord Malfoy isn’t all roses and puffskeins, you know. I do have to work sometimes too.” He winked at her and kept walking slowly up the deserted Muggle street.

Ginny lengthened her stride to catch up with him.

“So,” he questioned, once she had caught up with him. “Why are you stuck with all those dusty old things all day?”

“Well, I think about it as a jumping off point really. I wanted to meet people in the industry, and learn a little about the day to day stuff. Not to mention it looks really good on a CV,” she smirked.

“To what end?” he asked curiously.

“If you promise not to laugh…”

“I’ll be as silent as a tomb.”

“Right then, it all started with this I guess,” she replied, vaguely gesturing to her signet ring. “Mum told me on my seventeenth birthday, when she gave the crest ring to me, that it was old, really old. She also told me that it had been passed down through the women of her family for a thousand years, or so they say, and that every woman who wears it imprints a little of her magical aura onto it. This fact really intrigued me, having had a bit of experience with erm- magical items,” emphasizing her last words with a deliberate look at Malfoy.

“I honestly never knew about that book Ginny, I swear. Not until after at least.”

Ginny made a swatting motion with her hand, “Never mind, it’s all in the past. Anyway, I was intrigued, and as soon as I slipped the ring on my finger I felt something. It’s hard to explain but it felt like something heavy in my blood. I know, that sounds rather silly, but that’s what it was like. Heavy, deep, rich- I’m no seer, most are hogwash anyway, but it was like I could feel the past and those connected to me through this ring. And then I got really curious. Was there a way I could unlock the ring and untangle the connections? Could I bottle them like thoughts in a pensieve?” Ginny’s eyes were shining, remembering the excitement when her theory first began to form, Draco looked over at her appreciably, admiring her passion.

“You feel like having coffee?” he asked suddenly.

“Pardon?” said Ginny, startled out of her thoughts.

Draco gestured to the all-night cafe on the corner up ahead. “Unless you’re too tired, of course.”

Ginny shook her head, strangely she felt less tired then she usually did after work.

“Coffee sounds great.” They walked up to the tiny restaurant, and found a booth by the window. A shuffling waitress came over and filled their cups with coffee, barely blinking at their unusual attire. She had worked the night shift for years at the café and had seen all kinds of patrons; it didn’t matter to her what they looked like- as long as they tipped well.

“I’m not normally a coffee person,” Ginny confessed, “and I have nothing against Muggles, but the tea they serve at restaurants is crap.”

Draco smirked at her.

“Don’t you smirk at me, ‘crap’ is not a bad word. I’m as lady-like as I can be, having grown up with six brothers. You should’ve heard them at last Sunday’s family dinner or the time they caught me with that bloke in the broom sh-”. Ginny’s ears suddenly turned a brilliant shade of red.

Looking rather mortified that she had said so much to Draco; she quickly looked down into her cup, examining the small chip in the rim.

Draco’s smirk grew so wide it threatened to overtake his entire face. “I’d ask,” he grinned, “but I don’t think it’d be terribly gentlemanly of me, and I’ve a certain reputation to uphold.” He winked.

“Oh, of course.” She looked up from her mug, rolling her eyes at him.

“So,” Ginny backtracked, “this museum business, as I was saying, er… well, I believe I’ve got a really good idea, and I figure it can be done if I work hard enough at it. However, I’m stuck as the cloak check girl at MuOM, right now, because I haven’t found a research grant yet. I also need an older and wiser soul, basically a curator with time on his hands, who is willing to help me with the tricky stuff.”

“That sounds like a well-laid plan. You’ll be quite the professional once you’ve finished,” he ventured.

“Well, it hasn’t worked yet, but I figure I should give it a bit more time before giving it up. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try a different way. Something’s bound to take, I’m sure.” She nodded emphatically, picking up her coffee and sipping.

Draco smiled into his cup; it’d been awhile since he’d heard stubborn Gryffindor optimism. It was rather refreshing. It had really been too long, since he had been in the company of such a lovely young witch. Easy Draco, she’s just letting you walk her home. Get a grip old boy; you’re becoming as desperate as Severus.

"Your go," Ginny said as she looked at him expectantly, breaking his reverie.

"What me? Oh, of course. You mean this?" He gestured to the ring on his left hand. "Sadly there is not much to tell, it was my grandfather Abraxas Malfoy who gave up the original."

"Gave up?" inquired Ginny. "As in 'of his own free will' gave up a precious family heirloom?"

Draco nodded in reply.

"No offence meant, but your granddad seems a bit of a-"

"Git?" supplied Draco. "Oh, absolutely. Publicly he was quite upstanding but he was funneling resources to Grindelwald's supporters. His father, my great grandfather, didn't agree with it and took away his Gringott's key to save the family coffers, but he couldn't get the crest ring back. And as it was worth thousands of galleons..."

"He sold it," Ginny answered in disbelief.

"Right in one," congratulated Draco. "My great grandfather searched endlessly for the original but hadn't any luck at all. It was probably melted down or altered soon after it was bought anyway, it being far too recognizable to wear as it was." He shrugged his shoulders absently, "Great Grandfather had a copy made as you see, but of course, it's not the same."

"Your ring could still be out there. It's possible," Ginny replied hopefully.

"I highly doubt it, Ginny," he said, looking at her kindly.

Ginny stuck her hand out to him then and said, "When I become the world's foremost ancient crest ring expert, I promise to keep my eye out for yours and make discreet inquiries. You have my word on it."

Draco good-naturedly took her slim hand and shook it. "As long as you don't go on any sort of danger-filled quest for it, you go right ahead, luv."

Ginny pouted playfully in protest, "But everyone knows those are the best kinds of quests, Malfoy." Draco merely rolled his eyes upwards and sipped his coffee. Ginny laughed and they continued to chat about little things until their coffees had cooled and Ginny's eyelids began to droop. Draco paid the bill after a bit of mild protest from the sleepy red head and they walked slowly to the Leaky Cauldron and to Diagon Alley beyond.

Ginny, who had been leaning against Draco's cloaked side in an effort to stay upright, straightened and pulled her wand from her sleeve as she saw they were approaching her flat. She fiddled with an unlocking charm on her door until she heard a click, and then turned to face Draco, who was waiting patiently at her side. A strange awkwardness crept over them and for a moment they both looked anywhere but at each other. Draco finally bent down and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek; he smiled briefly at her.

"We'll do this again sometime, yeah?"

Ginny replied shyly, "Yeah, I'd like that. Owl me, all right?"

Draco nodded and bid her good night although the dawn was starting to break in the sky above them. He had started to walk away when Ginny called back to him quickly as if she had just remembered something.

"I forgot to ask. What happened to your grandfather? Did he help Grindelwald with the money?"

Draco chuckled, "Nah, the old wanker caught dragon pox and died instead."

Ginny knew she shouldn't laugh, as dragon pox was rather horrific if left untreated, but she felt a giggle bubbling up inside her. Imagine his great plans foiled by something as common as the pox.

Laughing, Ginny let herself into her flat and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She slept heavily and well into the morning. She had been dreaming quite happily about venturing into unknown places in search of lost treasures with a handsome blond at her side when a great CRACK was heard outside her window. She groped for her wand to renew the silencing charm and muttered incoherent threats about her favourite brothers as she got up to start the tea.

It had been a very interesting night after all.


The End.