The Way of It

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The Way of It: (1/?)
Beginnings

“Listen, Malfoy,” Harry snapped, “I don’t like being here with you anymore have you do, but we have to put the past behind us to get through this. Don’t you understand? We all have to work together. He held out his hand for Draco to take it. “…Friends?”

Draco hesitated for a moment, remembering when back in first year on the Hogwarts Express, he had made the exact same offer to Harry. He reached out and shook his hand.

***

Just then a girl Draco recognised as Lucinda’s sister, Lilah walked up to them. “Could I talk to you for just a minute?” she asked looking up at Draco.

“Sure.” He replied.

She looked pointedly at Harry. Shrugging, he walked back to where he had been sitting.

She turned back to Draco. “You know, you’re probably the best looking man I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, tracing a perfectly manicured finger along his chest.

Draco smiled crookedly. “Well I wasn’t going to be the first to say it, “ he replied.

“Do you know what I’d really like?”

“Hmm?”

She leaned towards him, so as he could feel her hot breath tickle his ear, and the sweet smell of strawberries and roses waft up his nose. “I’d really like to make love to a man like you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Well I’m sure I have a window in my schedule somewhere. Let’s see…er, what are you doing in, say ten seconds time?”

Giggling, she clutched his hand and led him by it to his bedroom chamber. She seemed to have a better idea where it was than he did, which Draco supposed he should be thankful for, seeing as he would probably have gotten them both lost, which meant no sex. Once there, she slammed the door shut and began to kiss him with fierce passion. All ladylikeness was lost. Pushing him down on the bed, she took off his robe, still kissing him, and leaving him in nothing but a pair of black silk boxers with tiny green snakes on them.

Neither of them heard the door fling open, but they both heard the woman’s shrill voice. “Salazar you bastard!” she cried, lunging towards him and slapping him across the face. Draco looked up, his head spinning, to see Salazar’s wife standing there, her eyes blazing. She walked towards her sister, who was leaning back on the bed leisurely, and also slapped her sharply in the face. “You little slut,” she spat. “You’d sleep with anything, wouldn’t you?” Draco felt mildly offended, and opened his mouth to say something, but wisely snapped it shut again when he remembered the stinging slap across his face. “Salazar,” Licinda said icily, turning to him again, “Ixion would like to see you in the library now. I suppose I had better go along with you, incase you bump into any of my brothers and decide to make love to them as well, seeing as you like to keep it in the family so much.”

Sighing, Draco followed her out of the room, where Lilah was still sitting on his bed. They walked down the corridor in silence. He supposed Licinda was probably not talking to him, thank God. His suspicions were wrong though, for a moment or so later she began shouting at him again.

“Why did you do it Salazar?” she snapped, “I mean,” she looked sick to her stomach, “Do you have feelings for her, or were you just sexually attracted?”

Draco remained silent. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell her that he wasn’t her husband, he had been dragged here unwilling, forced to take Polyjuice Potion, turning himself into Salazar Slytherin, and was now on a quest for some stupid jewel, which if he didn’t get would probably destroy the world he came from. For some reason, he just didn’t think she would believe him.

“Well?” she demanded, standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and her mouth set in a thin line.

“No, Lucinda darling, I don’t have feelings for her.” He replied truthfully.

She glared at him, before talking again. “Salazar darling,” she said in a mocking voice “If I ever catch you doing anything like that again, I swear, you will wish you have never been born. I will make your life a living hell, as will my brothers. I have it in good mind to tell them about this. Understand?”

Draco nodded silently. He was feeling quite sorry for Salazar.

“Well?” she snapped, “Go on in!”

He realised with a start that they were standing in front of the library. Cautiously he opened the door and walked in.

***

Ixion was there, sitting on a wooden stool. He seemed quite drunk, but then again, Draco remembered all the Dragonblood Wine he had been drinking at dinner.

“Well!” chortled Ixion, “don’t just stand there gaping at me! Pull up a stool. I have a proposition for you, Salazar, my friend.”

Draco looked around for somewhere to sit, only to find there was nowhere. Shrugging, he pulled out his wand, said the words “Accio stool”, and opened the door for the stool that was already shooting through the air. To his surprise, when he sat on it, he found it was quite warm. The person who was sitting on this when I did my spell must have go a bit of a shock, he thought with a grin.

Turning back to Ixion, he saw he was looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Salazar, tell me,” he slurred, “Is it just my imagination, or are you in your underwear?”

Draco looked down, and to his horror, saw he was. When Lucinda had caught him with Lilah, he had hurried out in such a rush he had forgotten to put his clothes back on. No wonder all the maids he had passed on the way down had been giving him such strange looks.

“Uh…long story.” He replied quickly. “Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Oh yes. That.” Ixion said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Salazar, what would you do if I said that I had a Really Cunning Plan which gave me the power to take over the entire wizarding world?”

“Jump around in glee and ban Sritney Bpears forever?” Draco suggested.

“Who on earth is Sritney Bpears? And Salazar, I am being serious.”

“So am I.” Draco replied sombrely.

“Ok, that’s it. Salazar, get out. I can see you find this all a big joke.”

Draco was tempted to say, ‘The only thing I’m finding funny is your face,’ but he bit back the urge. He had the strong suspicion that Harry would be mad at him if he ruined their only chance of saving the wizarding world. And an angry Harry who had the strength of Godric Gryffindor was the kind of person Draco didn’t really want to encounter right now.

“Right, right. Ixion, I’m sorry. I do want to know about your Really Cunning Plan. What is it?”

Ixion lowered his voice so as Draco could barely make him out, and had to lean closer to hear him. The smell of alcohol coming from his breath made Draco want to be sick. “A stone.” He whispered, as if he was sharing the secrets of the world.

Draco had already known this, but he once again had to fight back the urge of laughing. Instead he simply nodded, and said, “Can I see it?”

Ixion shook his head. “Oh, no. It’s hidden. There’s only one map, which is in my chest, or I would give you one. If you want though, I could bring you to see it. You’d have to come blindfolded of course, because it’s hidden with all my other secret things, including my diary. And I never want anybody to find my diary, ‘cos it has all secret, special things about Rowena in it. Rowena and her lovely hair…” His head was nodding now, as though he was about to go to sleep, which sure enough he did, causing him to fall off his stool.

Draco stood up and left the library. He supposed he should be feeling happy. Once he had gotten that map, they could find the stone and return home. He didn’t know why, but that thought made him feel more depressed than happy…

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t see Hermione and Rowena’s husband Darwin, until he had almost walked right into them. Hermione was laughing at something funny Darwin had said and he was holding her hand. Draco didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt jealous. Jealous and angry and another feeling he didn’t recognise.

He strode up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. She span round, gave one look at him and burst out laughing. “So that’s what you’ve been doing in the library with Ixion all this time,” she said between giggles.

It took him a moment to work out what she meant. Then he realised she was talking about him wearing nothing but his underwear. “Oh, ha ha.” He said dryly. He supposed it would have been pretty funny if it weren’t him she was laughing at. “Grang- I mean, Rowena, I need to talk to you about something.” He said.

“What, where all your clothes went?” she asked, laughing again.

“Oh, forget it. I’ll talk to Potter about it.” He snapped, his eyes flashing.

She stopped laughing, and seemed to finally have caught on to what he was talking about. “Oh that.” She said breathlessly. “Do you…do you have it now?”

Draco shook his head. “No, but I know where to find a thing that will tell us where to find the thing.”

“Well…er, I need to go with Darwin now,” she said, blushing and looking more than slightly embarrassed. “But tell Har- Godric. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”

“Fine.” Draco said, and strode away, but not before hearing Darwin say to Hermione, “Salazar’s gone bonker’s hasn’t he? Walking around, almost nude. And who’s this fellow, Potter? You know, I’ve always suspected old Sly is-” Draco didn’t hear what Darwin thought Salazar was, because he bent down and whispered it in Hermione’s ear. Whatever it was though, it made Hermione shriek with laughter.

Hermione. Why was he feeling these things for her? He had always hated her. He still did. She was a mudblood. But she mustn’t be that much of a mudblood, if she is the heir of Ravenclaw… a tiny voice in his head said.

It’s the Potion. That’s it.

But maybe not, maybe it’s because you never got to know her before, like you have now… said the voice in his head again.

“No!” he shouted out loud, causing many of the servants to give him startled looks. He supposed it was strange, seeing one of the most powerful wizards walking about in nothing but a pair of snake-patterned boxers, talking and shouting to himself. He decided he would speak to Harry after putting some clothes on.

Walking into his room, he was surprised to see Lilah sitting there, still on his bed. He was even more surprised when he saw she was wearing nothing but a silk blanket wrapped around her. He just hoped against hope that Licinda wouldn’t walk in right now, and get the wrong impression.

“Salazar, darling,” Lilah purred, “Remember your little promise earlier?”

Draco gulped. “Er…no,”

“You don’t?” she asked, pouting.

“Nope.”

“You were going to make love to me,” she wailed. “Wild, passionate love, right here on this bed.”

“Oh yes…” Draco said nodding. “You see, about that. My wife, also known as your sister, said she would kill me I did. And the thing, is, see, I actually like living! Surprising, huh?”

“At this point, you are simply abusing sarcasm. Anyway, you don’t have to be so rude about it,” she snapped, dropping the girly act. “I took all my clothes off for you. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get off a corset?”

“Well, seeing as I don’t wear one, no.” he replied.

“Those weren’t the rumours I heard,” she smirked, picking up her clothes from the floor.

Draco was now getting a strong suspicion to what Darwin thought Salazar was - in one word - gay.

He slammed the door viciously as she flounced out of it, and began to search the ground for his robes, which were nowhere to be found. Looking under his bed, he saw them and reached out to get them, but they were too far away. Cursing, he crawled under the bed, grabbed them and crawled out again, bumping his head in the process. No sooner was he out, than he heard a voice behind him.

Turning, he saw Harry standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. “Malfoy,” he said, “I thought we were going here to save the world, not to make out with every girl we see.”

Draco felt the colour rise in his cheeks. “What on earth could you mean, Potter?” he asked, quickly pulling on his robe.

Harry smirked. “Oh, I don’t know…naked girls leaving your room, I come in here, see you in nothing but your boxers…it just really does make one jump to these conclusions.”

“Oh sod off, Potter,” Draco snapped, who was for once in no mood for bickering, even with Harry.

The black haired boy didn’t leave though. In fact, he did the complete opposite and sat down on Draco’s bed. “Hermione said you wanted to see me?”

Draco nodded, and sat down beside Harry. “A short while ago, I was in the library, alone with Ixion-” he began.

Harry sat up straight, a surprised look on his face, “Was Ixion the one who took your clothes off?” He asked, his eyes widening. “Wow Malfoy, you sure do get around.”

Draco gave him an exasperated look. “No Potter, it wasn’t. If you must know, it was actually Granger and the two Weasley’s who took my clothes off. We all had a giant foursome. I was going to ask you to come along and join in, but Ron just wouldn’t let me. Satisfied? Now, the reason I wanted to see you is what Ixion told me in the library. He says he has a map in his trunk, in his room, which will lead us to the hiding place of Bhelliom.”

Harry whistled under his breath. “Bloody hell, Malfoy, how did you get all that out of him?

Draco cocked his head to the ceiling. “All I’m going to say is that it involved me, him and a pair of handcuffs, along with some whipped cream. I’d rather not talk about it.

“Well, do you have a plan?” Harry asked.

“Not yet, but seeing as I’m in Slytherin, you can count on me to make a very good one.” He stood up and ushered Harry to the door. “Goodbye,” he said, before shutting it firmly in his curious looking face.

***

Draco sat down on the bed thinking. There was so many things going on in his head - And the main one was something that he’d rather not think about - Hermione. Damn, damn, damn. What was it about her? Should he tell her? Never.

He though back to what he had told Harry. He needed to get a plan…

It finally struck him. And they could go tonight.

He rushed out into the corridor and up the stairs to Harry’s chamber, before realising that he didn’t actually know where Harry’s chamber was. He knocked on the nearest door, only to come face to face with two of Lucinda’s very scary looking brothers.

“Er…” Draco began.

The bigger of the two brothers (Draco thought his name was Cain) was first to speak. “We heard what you did to our sisters, Sly,” he growled menacingly. Draco braced himself.

The other brother (Draco didn’t know what his name was - and right now it didn’t really seem relevant-) spoke. “We’re going to hurt you. A lot.”

Cain looked at him, gave him an ugly smile, and punched him directly in the mouth, busting his lip open.

“You bastards!” Draco cried, as the blood seeped out over his robes. “Do you know how hard it is to wash blood out of clothes? I swear!” He shot them a dark look before stomping down the corridor.

He paused before opening the next door; one quite like his own with ornate carvings marked into it. He had better luck there, as Harry was sitting at a desk, reading.

“Potter!” Draco said, “Firstly, do you have any clean robes and a handkerchief? Secondly, I have a plan.”

Harry walked over to a chest of drawers, pulled out a scarlet robe along with a handkerchief and tossed them to Draco.

Draco lifted them and scowled, making a face behind Harry’s back. “Red is so not my colour,” he muttered, taking off his old blood-covered green robes and replacing them with the ones Harry had given him.

Harry turned to Draco and cleared his throat. “Malfoy, I have a plan too.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Let’s hear it. I suppose it’ll give us a good laugh, if anything else.”

“Well, tonight we could sneak into his house, up to his room and then get the map.”

Draco seemed quiet all of a sudden.

“What do you think?” enquired Harry.

Draco gave Harry a skeptical look. “My plan is much better.” He sniffed.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“We dress up as women, get into the house as…what do you call them…Ladies of Pleasure, and take Ixion hostage.”

Harry shot him a worried look. “Er…Malfoy, I think it’d be better if we went along with my plan.”

Draco gave a heavy sigh. “Fine, let’s go now.”

“Um, there’s a slight problem.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know where Ixion lives.”

Draco gave him a superior look. “It’s the manor house in Hogsmeade - well it’s not Hogsmeade now, it’s a muggle town.”

“Well, we better go.”

“Exactly.”

***

The streets were quiet, and the stars were very bright overhead. “Remember, no magic,” Harry said quietly as he and Draco crept through the deserted streets. “If any of the muggles see, we’re in trouble.”

“Hmph,” Draco said.

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen.”

“I am not!” Draco stopped just before they reached an intersection and peered around the corner of a house. A man wearing a short cape and carrying a spear and small lantern was shuffling sleepily along the street.

“Watchman,” Draco breathed deeply, and he and Harry stepped into the shadows of a deeply recessed doorway. The watchman plodded on past, the lantern swinging from his hand casting looming shadows against the walls of the buildings.

“He should be more alert,” Harry said disapprovingly.

“Under the circumstances your sense of what’s proper might be a little misplaced.”

“Right is right, Malfoy,” Harry replied stubbornly.

After the watchman was out of sight, they crept on up the street.

“Are we just going to walk up to the gate of this manor house?” Draco asked.

“No. When we get close to it, we’ll go in over the rooftops.”

“I’m not a cat, Potter. Leaping from roof to roof isn’t my idea of entertainment.”

“I did some research before we came here. The houses are all built up against each other in that part of town. The rooftops are just like a highway.”

“Oh,” Draco said, slightly embarrassed. “That’s different then.”

Ixion’s house was a fairly large building surrounded by a high, white-mortared wall. There were torches set on long poles at each corner, and a narrow lane running alongside the wall.

“Does that lane run all the way around it?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“There’s a significant hole in your plan then, Potter. I can’t jump all the way from one of these roof tops to the top of that wall.”

“I don’t think I could either.” Harry frowned. “Lets go around and look at the other side.”

They crept through a series of narrow streets and alleys that wound along the back sides of the houses facing the manor’s wall. A dog came out and barked at them until Draco shied a rock at him. The dog yelped and ran off on three legs.

“Now I know how a burglar feels,” Draco muttered.

“There,” Harry said.

“There where?”

“Right over there. Some helpful person is doing repairs on his roof. See the pile of beams stacked up against the side of that wall? Lets go see how long they are.”

They crossed the alley to the stack of building material. Draco studiously measured the beams off with his feet. “Marginal,” he observed.

“We’ll never know until we try,” Harry told him.

“Alright, how do we get up to the roof?”

“We’ll lean the beams against the wall. If we slant them up right, we should be able to scramble up and then pull them after us.”

“Or we could just fall off and break our necks,” Draco observed sourly. “But what the hell. Alright, let’s try it.”

They leaned several beams against the wall, and Harry hauled himself up onto the roof. “Alright,” he whispered down over the edge, “come on up.”

Draco climbed up the beam, picking up a large splinter in his hand in the process. Then he and Harry laboriously hauled the beams up after them and carried them one by one across the roof to the side facing the manor’s wall. The flickering torches atop the wall cast a faint glow across the roof tops. As they were carrying the last beam, Harry stopped suddenly. “Malfoy,” he called softly.

“What?”

“Two roofs over. There’s a woman lying there.”

“How do you know it’s a woman?”

“Because she’s stark naked, that’s how.”

“Oh,” Draco said, “that. It’s an old wizarding custom. She’s waiting for the moon to rise. They have a superstition here that the first rays of the moon on a woman’s belly increase her fertility.”

“Won’t she see us?”

“She won’t say anything if she does. She’s too busy waiting for the moon. Press on Potter. Don’t stand there gawking at her.”

They struggled manfully to push a beam out over the narrow lane, a task made more difficult by the fact that their leverage diminished as they shoved the beam out farther and farther. Finally the stubborn beam clunked down on top of the manor’s wall. They slid several more beams across along its top, and then rolled them to one side to form a narrow bridge. As they were shoving the last one across, Draco suddenly stopped with a muttered curse.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked him.

“How did we get up on this roof, Potter?” Draco asked acidly.

“We climbed up a slanted beam.”

“Where did we want to go?”

“To the top of the wall of the manor over there.”

“Then why are we building bridges?”

“Because-” Harry stopped, feeling suddenly very foolish. “We could have just leaned a beam against the wall of the manor, couldn’t we?”

“Congratulations,” Draco said, his voice laden with sarcasm.

“The bridge was such a perfect solution to the problem,” Harry said defensively.

“But totally unnecessary.”

“That doesn’t really invalidate the solution, does it?”

“Of course not.”

“Why don’t we just go on across?”

“You go ahead. I think I’ll go talk with the naked lady for a while.

“Never mind, Malfoy. She has her mind on other things.”

“I’m sort of an expert on fertility, if that’s what’s really bothering her.”

“Let’s go, Malfoy.”

They crossed their makeshift bridge to the top of the manor’s wall and crept along it until they reached a place where the branches of a well-watered fig tree reached up out of the shadows below. They climbed down the tree and stood for a moment or two beside it while Harry got his bearings. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Ixion’s bedroom is, would you?” he whispered.

“No,” Draco replied softly, “but I can guess. It’s a manor house, and all wizarding manor houses are the same, old or new. The private quarters will be upstairs at the back.”

“Very good, Malfoy,” Harry said dryly. “That narrows things down considerably. Now we only have to search a quarter of the building.”

They crept through a shadowy garden and entered by way of an unlocked back door. They passed though a darkened kitchen and into the dimly lit central hall. Harry suddenly jerked Draco back into the kitchen.

“What the -” Draco started to object in a hoarse whisper.

“Shhh!”

Out in the hall there was the bobbing glow of a candle. A matronly woman, a housekeeper or perhaps a cook, walked towards the kitchen door. Draco shrank back as she stood framed in the doorway. Then she took hold of the handle and firmly closed the door.

“How did she know she was coming?” Draco whispered.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered back. “I just did.” He put his ear to the door. “She’s moving on,” he reported softly.

“What’s she doing up at this time of night?”

“Who knows? Maybe she’s just making sure all the door’s are locked.” He listened again. “There,” he said, “she just closed another door, and I can’t hear her out there any more. I think she went to bed.”

“The staircase should be just opposite the main entry-way,” Draco whispered. “Let’s go up stairs before somebody else comes wandering by.”

They darted out into the hallway and up a broad flight of stairs to the upper floor.

“Look out for an ornate door,” Draco whispered. “Ixion is the master of this house, so he’s likely to have the most luxurious room. You go that way, and I’ll go this.”

They separated and went in opposite directions on tiptoe. At the end of the hallway, Draco found an elaborately carved door decorated with gilt paint. He opened it carefully and looked inside. By the light of a single dimly glowing oil lamp he saw a young dark haired, bearded man of twenty or so lying on his back in the four poster bed. The man was snoring loudly. Draco recognised him. He softly closed the door and went to look for Harry, whom he met at the head of the stairs. “Ixion’s sleeping alone. He’s down at this end of the hall.” He whispered to him.

Together they tiptoed back down to the gilt painted door. Draco eased it open, and they went inside and crossed the floor to a valuable looking wooden chest at the end of the bed.

Gently, Harry tried to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. He realised it was locked. Cursing, he pulled out his wand from the inside pocket of his cape, and whispered the words “Alohomora”. There was a faint click, and it sprung open.

Draco stood just behind him, his head bowed, so as the still unfamiliar dark blonde hair fell around his eyes. He clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t why, but he had been feeling uneasy since he had entered this room, as though something wasn’t quite right. Suddenly he realised what it was. The first time he had came into the room; Ixion had been snoring peacefully. Now there was no sound, none at all.

Just then, Harry held up a piece of tattered, worn looking parchment. “Got it,” he whispered quietly, a smile spread across his face.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Godric,” came a cold and ruthless voice from behind them. Turning around, they saw Ixion standing there in a nightshirt, a crossbow aimed directly at Harry’s heart; ready to fire, and no doubt kill him.

***

Without thinking, Draco dived in front of Harry. The arrow pierced his chest, causing a pain so agonising it almost paralysed him. Groaning weakly, he pressed his hands to the injury, trying to stop the flow of blood which had already turned his white shirt a deep scarlet. The room span before his eyes. Slowly, he slid down onto the cold flagstones. He just wanted to sleep. An endless sleep that would last for an eternity, in a place where no shadows fell. A place where he would have no worries…but he couldn’t. If only that git Potter would shut up.

“You bastard!” cried Harry, his voice verging on hysterical. “You killed him, you filthy bastard!” Pulling out his wand, he yelled the words “Petrificus partialitus!"

Ixion froze where he was, about three feet away from him, his feet seemingly nailed to the stone floor. Harry strode towards him, grabbed the crossbow and threw it on the ground with such force that the wood actually splintered. He began to walk away, but seemed to change his mind when he had only halfway reached Draco. Turning, he glared at Ixion with a look which could only be comprehended as pure malice, before punching him in the face.

***

Draco slowly lifted his head. It felt as though there was a giant weight in it, dragging him down, it was so heavy. Looking up, he saw Harry bending over him. He had ripped some fabric from his own shirt, and was holding it to Draco’s wound, trying to stop the blood that was still flowing incessantly. “My head feels big,” he told Harry groggily. His voice sounded hoarse, far from the usual drawl that he had inherited from his father, and usually spoke with.

“Well, I always did say you were big headed,” Harry told him, with a weak smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Where’s he?” Draco asked, trying to sit up, only to find he couldn’t.

“ Who?” Harry’s face looked blank for a moment. “Oh, him. I punched him in the face and it knocked him out. He’s in his bed.” There was a silence after this, not uncomfortable and full of tension, but a peaceful, soothing sort, both boys deep in thought.

“Harry…Am I… Am I going to die?” Draco said, voicing the thought that had been playing on his mind. He looked sick to his stomach, as though frightened what the answer might be. His usual cool grey eyes were now like two black tunnels, going on forever. But maybe for not that much longer, Harry thought, against his own will.

“I don’t know Malfoy, I just don’t know.” He replied quite truthfully, in a choked voice. “We need to get you home. Maybe there Hermione can do some. You’re wound is too advanced for me to treat. Only an expert witch or wizard could heal it.”

Draco closed his eyes again. “I’m so tired, I just want to sleep. I want to go home.” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Harry racked his brain for some sort of spell that would enable him to return to the castle with Draco, for the blonde haired boy was surely not fit to walk, the state he was in, and he could not carry him. As he was thinking, Draco spoke again, in the same sombre voice. “My shirt is ruined, goddamn it. I liked this shirt.”

******