I want to thank whoever nominated my story for the DSTA. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that my story is appreciated like that.
A note: chapter 11 is NOT the last chapter. As of now, I am planning 3 or 4 more chapters.
01/23/07: I edited ch. 11 (Faithful As the Rising Sun) because my beta found a canon mistake in ch. 12, which was foreshadowed in 11. Ginny wanted to do magic at the Burrow, which is forbidden because she is underage.
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Losing Each Other | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP, Buried Gems Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 169 Summary: This story follows Harry and Ginny from their parting after Dumbledore's funeral. Much of it is told from Ginny's POV. The first chapter, "Ginny's Mermaid," was originally posted as a one-shot. I have revised it slightly as part of this longer story, but it is essentially the same as it was when I first posted it. Hitcount: Story Total: 106080; Chapter Total: 6761 Author's Notes: |
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No one in the kitchen reacted for several heartbeats after Moody finished delivering his message. Then Ginny threw herself at him and hugged him. There was a loud squeal from her Pygmy Puff, which she was still holding and squashing against Mad—Eye’s back. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “Is that addressed to me or to this... what is it?” Moody’s magical eye stared at the Puff, which Ginny was stroking and trying to placate. “Mad—Eye!” Fred said in a hurt tone. “It’s one of our best selling items.” “So the best ex—Auror in Britain doesn’t know the magical fauna of his own native land,” George added. “I know magical morons when I see them, with either eye,” Moody growled. Ginny was not listening to the banter. She whirled to face a grinning Tonks.“See, I told you it would be fine,” the Auror said. “What should I do? I can’t think. Let me put this away. I’ll be right back.” Ginny tore upstairs faster than she had come down. She threw the Puff into its cage and it let out a string of indignant chirps. Ginny dragged her trunk into the middle of the floor and started throwing clothes out; she didn’t know what she should put on. She threw them back in and slammed the trunk shut. She pulled her new boots on and gathered her hair back with the golden lion clasp, and in a moment she was back in the kitchen. Mad—Eye was sitting at the table with her parents; everyone else had returned to the parlor to finish decorating the tree and to discuss the news. “When will he be here?” Ginny asked breathlessly. “Should be before dark,” said Moody. “A Healer was looking at his foot. It was burned. When I left she was still working on it.” “How did it happen? Can he walk?” “I’ll let him tell you,” Moody answered. “He needs help to walk.” Ginny was actually torn between worrying about Harry’s injury, and a vision of his arm around her shoulder as she helped him hobble about the Burrow, up the stairs, outside into the garden.... “I think I’ll go help with the tree,” she said. “I want it ready before he – I mean, they get here.” She spent the next two hours decorating the parlor with the others, using paper cutouts as liberally as she had last year. It was finally done as dusk was falling. The fire cast a warm glow, and the smell of pine tree filled the room. Ginny sat in a chair near the door, feeling a nervous, tingling anticipation. She didn’t know what to think; in reality, she could not think straight at all. What had happened to make Harry send that message? Had he been hit on the head? More than one person had told her that was exactly what he needed to bring him to his senses. There was a string of pops from outside, and her heart leapt and her stomach dropped. She ran to the door and flung it open. Standing in the gloom and the dementors mist were Ron and Hermione, supporting Harry between them. There was another pop, and Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared behind them. Everyone piled out of the Burrow. Molly ran to Ron and hugged him, then Harry, then Hermione. “We’ll be bringing your parents here tomorrow morning,” she informed Hermione. “We already told them you were coming today. Harry, what happened to you? My goodness, every time I see you, you’ve been attacked or fallen off your broom.” She inspected Harry, who looked over her shoulder at Ginny. Ginny’s heart was pounding; he had not looked at her like that since last spring, before Professor Dumbledore’s funeral. She walked toward him, vaguely aware of other people, of Kingsley Shacklebolt talking to her father, of the twins and Bill and Fleur gathered around Ron, Hermione and Harry, asking questions. But Harry was not answering; he never took his eyes from Ginny as she approached. Hermione moved aside. Ginny stepped next to Harry and he put his arm around her shoulder. As she and Ron helped him limp to the door, he still did not take his eyes from her. She glanced at him once and blushed and looked down. No one had every looked at her with such intensity; she could feel his gaze boring into her as they entered the Burrow. They sat him down at the kitchen table, and Ginny looked at him in the light. He did have a small bruise and a lump on his forehead opposite his scar, but otherwise he seemed all right. He smiled as she sat next to him; he touched the lion clasp in her hair, and Ginny knew that she was still blushing furiously. Molly Weasley started bustling, and dishes and pots began flying around the kitchen, setting themselves on the table or the stove. She started to speak, but Fleur cut her off. “Mon Dieu!” she cried. “Can’t you see zey want to be alone? Come!” She grabbed Bill, pushed Arthur Weasley ahead of her, and scowled at Molly. “We can wait a few minutes for dinner. Out! Out!” She shooed the rest of them, and in a moment the kitchen was empty except for Ginny and Harry. Fleur paused and looked back. “I t’ink I can keep zem out for fifteen minutes.” She smiled, and Ginny thought she had a vague sense of what a veela’s look could do to a man. But Harry was not looking at Fleur. He was looking straight into Ginny’s eyes. “I– I’ve been rehearsing this all day,” he stammered, and he blushed. “I’ll probably still get it wrong. Ginny, I know I’ve said this before, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every stupid thing I ever said or did. Something happened yesterday, and I almost... I almost died. And what I thought at that moment was, how could I do this to you?” He blinked several times; Ginny put her hand on his cheek, and Harry took it. “I didn’t care about Voldemort or Horcruxes,” he continued in a hoarse voice. “The only thing that mattered was what it would do to you. I told myself that if I lived, I would never walk away from you again. I promise you that. Do you believe me?” There were whispers from just outside the kitchen, and Ginny saw an Extendable Ear slipping into the room. She stood and pulled Harry up. She backed toward the door to the yard, and he limped after her. She stepped on the Ear as she passed it, and ground it into the floor under her dragon—hide boot; it made a squishing noise, and someone in the hallway swore. She opened the door and they stumbled outside. She caught Harry in her arms, and they kissed. Harry pressed her tightly against him. Her fingers dug into his back. She was trembling in his arms; she could feel both of them losing control, and she didn’t care. “It’s dinner time, kids. Dessert’s usually last,” Tonks said in a lilting voice from the doorway, and they broke apart. “And you should close the door when you go outside.” She giggled. As she shut the door, Molly peered over her shoulder. “Did you answer my question?” Harry grinned at Ginny. Ginny ran her hand over his face and across his scar. “For now, it’s yes. But you’ll have to convince me again after dinner.” “You are one tough witch to persuade,” Harry laughed. He put his arm around her shoulder, and she helped him back into the kitchen. The entire household was standing around the table looking at them. Ginny glared at the twins. “Good thing you bought me these boots,” she said. “They’re perfect for dealing with annoying magical objects.” George held up what looked like a squashed worm. “Gee, Sis, you didn’t have to obliterate it.” “What the heck is that?” Harry asked. “It looks like one of your Extendable Ears got chewed up.” “That’s it, more or less,” Ginny said. “It’s my brothers’ idea of a bad joke.” “And after everything I did for you,” Harry said softly to George. The twins looked at him sheepishly. Molly began serving. Ginny sat between Harry and Hermione, who looked at her curiously. “Is he okay?” she whispered to Ginny as the Yorkshire pudding passed itself around the table. Ginny just grinned. She noticed that her mother was casting frequent glances at her and Harry, and she wondered how, after all the mother—daughter talks they had had during the past few months, her mum could be surprised that the first thing she and Harry would do was snog. It was a little annoying, on top of the twins’ stunt. But then her mother smiled, and Ginny smiled back. Harry was talking to Kingsley, who was sitting on his other side. Ginny moved her elbow and bumped his arm, then held it pressed against him. He didn’t turn, but she felt his leg move, and he put his foot on hers. Ginny glanced across the table at Tonks who was hiding a grin with her hand. Next to Tonks, Mad—Eye was holding a fork full of roast lamb in front of his mouth, but he wasn’t eating it. Ginny realized, with a blush, that Moody’s magical eye was staring through the table at her and Harry’s feet, while his normal eye looked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, and Tonks burst into laughter. After dinner, Ginny helped Harry get up, and he stepped gingerly on his right foot. “It’s getting better,” he said. “The Healer gave me a potion and told me an incantation, but I think I’ll let your mum do it. I had some problems. You know, my spells.” His face, which to Ginny had been as bright as a sunny day, now clouded. “That’s going to get better. I know it for a fact,” Ginny declared. “Right, Mum?” Mrs. Weasley was standing at the sink, watching the dishes getting scrubbed.“Of course it will. Harry, you mustn’t doubt that. I think you’re well on your way to recovery.” “Recovery from what?” Harry was puzzled. “I think my foot is getting better, but how could that affect my spells? “Why don’t you and Ginny go to the parlor. Everyone wants to know what happened yesterday.” Ginny was certain that her mother was trying to keep her and Harry from being alone. Well, she thought, there wasn’t much chance of that happening in this house, not with her mum on the lookout. “Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said as he sat down again, “could you put some of that potion on my foot? It’s in my cloak, and she wrote down a charm, too.” Ginny got Harry’s cloak from a hook next to the door. In the pocket was a small, corked bottle and a parchment. There were also two photographs; she glanced at them, then put them back. Ginny read the parchment over her mother’s shoulder. “That looks a lot like one we learned this year in Charms. I can do it.” Molly frowned. “You know you can’t do magic here, Ginny. You can put the potion on.” Harry took off his boot and sock, and propped his foot on a chair. Ginny dabbed at the red marks on his heel and sole with the potion. “I forgot to tell you,” Harry said. “The Healer was the same witch who took care of your feet last spring when the train was attacked.” Ginny grinned as she wiped down his foot. “You and I have so much in common, don’t we?” “Yes. In fact, the Healer said we must be made for each other. Do you think she meant more than just our feet?” Ginny blushed, and glanced at her mother; Molly was smiling. Ginny stood aside as her mother began the charm. She was annoyed about not being allowed to do it herself, but when Molly finished, Harry’s foot was noticeably improved; the red places were now just pink. Harry put his footwear back on and tried walking. “Wow, that’s much better.” He strode up and down the kitchen. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. And Miss Weasley.” Molly pushed them both toward the parlor. “You two go inside. Everyone’s waiting to hear you, Harry.” The fire was roaring and the parlor was warm and cosy. Ginny sat in an easy chair, and Harry perched on the arm. He answered questions about the grave and, as far as he could remember, about the attack on himself. Everyone in the room knew about the Horcrux. Kingsley told them about the wand, and they marveled that such an ancient, almost sacred object could be used for such a purpose. Molly Weasley came in shortly and turned on the wireless. As soon as Celestina Warbeck began crooning Love Potion Number Seven Fleur groaned loudly and walked out muttering in French. The conversation turned to other topics. Harry took Ginny’s hand, and gestured to the kitchen. Ginny felt her mother and father watching as they walked out. In the kitchen, Harry put his arms around her and nuzzled her cheek. “Where can we be alone? Your mum is watching us like a hawk.” Ginny grabbed two cloaks from their hooks. “In the garden,” she whispered. They slipped out the back door, and didn’t see Mrs. Weasley poke her head into the kitchen and watch them go outside. Harry was barely limping now, and he led Ginny away from the lights of the house into the cold, damp darkness. They found their way to the garden, and next to the fence he stopped and took Ginny into his arms and embraced her with a long, deep kiss. Ginny rested her head on his chest, and Harry stroked her hair. “I didn’t want to be alone just to snog you,” he murmured. “There’s so much I want to say, to tell you.” “So do I.” Ginny closed her eyes. She was in a dream; twenty—four hours ago her only hope was that Harry would come back alive and unhurt. Now, not only was he here, but everything that her heart had hoped for was actually happening. The back door opened, and light spilled outside. Two wands flared. “Ginny? Harry? Are you there?” Molly Weasley’s voice cut through the dankness and the fog. She sounded angry. “Brilliant,” Ginny said in a low voice. “This is what I get for being the youngest and the only girl.” The two wands approached, and Harry and Ginny made out the shapes of Molly and Tonks. “We’re coming, Mum.” Ginny spoke before her mother could. “We were talking.” Tonks, standing behind Molly, rolled her eyes, but Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, especially with all this fog. Please come inside, right now.” I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. “We weren’t going far from the house.” Molly gave him a tight smile. Tonks stood aside as Harry and Ginny passed. “Come sit with us,” she said. “It’s nice and snug with the fire. Everyone wants to see you, Harry.” Back in the parlor, the wireless was off and Fleur had returned. She looked up as they entered. “Zat is not right,” she declared. “Zey need to be alone, two lovers like zem.” She frowned at Molly, who glared back. “No one should be outside at night, not with that mist around. Least of all ‘zem.’” “Donc, c’est impossible.” Fleur gave a Gallic shrug. Harry and Ginny went back to their easy chair, with Harry sitting on the arm again. Gradually the parlor emptied as people went to bed. Soon only Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione remained, but Mrs. Weasley was out in the kitchen, making sufficient noise so that anyone in the parlor would know she was there. “This is ridiculous,” Ron finally said. He went into the kitchen, and they heard him speaking in a low voice, and Molly answering. He came back and sat down on the sofa next to Hermione. “I think she’ll go to bed now,” he announced, “but I had to promise to chaperone you.” He looked at Ginny. “What?” Ginny was incredulous. “I don’t need a chaperone, especially you!” “Shut up!” Ron hissed. “I had to say it just to get her to leave. Good night, Mum.” He smiled as Mrs. Weasley peeked into the parlor. “Good night, dears. Don’t stay up late. Harry, you must be exhausted. Why don’t you go up to bed now?” “I’ll be up soon, Mrs. Weasley. Good night.” Molly looked at him dubiously, but left, and they heard her climb the stairs and go into her bedroom. The door closed, and the Burrow was silent. Ginny pulled Harry into the chair and wrapped herself around him. They kissed again. After several minutes, Hermione giggled and Ron coughed loudly. “Shut up yourself, Ron,” Ginny called from down inside the easy chair. Harry looked up with his eyeglasses askew, and grinned. He and Ginny unfolded themselves and Harry settled in the chair with Ginny sideways on his lap, her arms around his neck. Ron stared until Ginny started staring back and Hermione poked him in the ribs. They talked long into the night, and then into the early hours of the morning. Harry told Ginny about his journey to the graveyard, and Ron and Hermione recounted how they had left Hogwarts and arrived at Edward Pendragon’s house just before Mad—Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They went straight to the cemetery, and found Merope’s grave, but not Harry. They spent the rest of the day at the Pendragon house, until, shortly after sunset, Moody suddenly announced that Harry was at the cemetery. They got there just as the attack was about to finish him off. “I wish I had been there.” Ginny shuddered, and tightened her arms around Harry. Harry lifted her chin and looked into her eyes; his own were glistening. “I promise I will never do that to you again.” “You convinced me.” There was another long snog. They talked again about the wand and the Horcrux, and then Ginny wanted to know about the Healer. Since the burns were caused by magic, and were so severe, the Healer could not cure them quickly. Fortunately, Kingsley had been able to keep the pain from becoming unbearable. They didn’t want Harry to Apparate until his foot had healed, but he would not wait, and so they arrived at the Burrow on Christmas Eve. When Harry and Ginny saw the first hint of daylight through the window, Ron had fallen asleep and Hermione was dozing with her head on his shoulder. “Now what?” Harry asked quietly. “I’m getting sleepy myself. I only napped during the day yesterday, and we were up the whole night before.” Ginny got up and peered out the east—facing window. Dawn was about to break through the dementors mist. “Come upstairs to my room,” she whispered. “I want to show you something.” “Ginny!” She slapped his chest. “Harry! It’s not that. Come on.” She led him out of the parlor – Ron was snoring quietly – and up the stairs to her room. She closed her door and pushed Harry against the wall next to it. “Stand here,” she whispered, “and wait.” Harry stood, not knowing what was happening. The room was very dark; he could hear the Pygmy Puffs chirping in their cage. Ginny went to the window and sat on the sill. “Just wait,” she whispered again. The sky brightened, and Christmas day dawned. The sun came up under the cloud cover and pierced the haze with a burst of golden light. It rose directly behind Ginny, and in a few moments she was perfectly silhouetted against it. A red halo blazed around her head as sunlight streamed through her hair. Harry saw the world on fire with Ginny in the center. His heart was also burning; he had never seen anything like it. He walked toward her. With his vision dimmed by the brilliant light, he didn’t see the trunk lying on the floor. He tripped over it and sprawled on Ginny’s bed. The door opened and Molly Weasley looked into the room. She fixed Harry with a stony stare. “What is going on here? Harry, get off that bed.” Harry stood up, and stepped toward Molly and the door. He tripped on the trunk again, and had to catch himself on it. He and Ginny both started talking at the same time. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny was just showing –“ “Mum, nothing happened. I just wanted to show Harry –“ Molly cut them both off. “Harry please leave. Ginny, I want to talk to you, in our room. Your father is there.” Harry looked at Ginny; she was glaring defiantly at her mother. He left the room without looking at Molly. Ron and Hermione were standing at the foot of the stairs with stricken expressions, but Harry pushed past them, and was about to go out the door when Remus Lupin spoke; he was sitting at the kitchen table. “Harry, don’t.” Harry took his cloak and went outside. He was angry and upset; Mrs. Weasley had never treated him like that. He could understand what it must have looked like, but she had not let them explain. She didn’t trust him, that was clear. He had believed that the Burrow was his home now, but maybe it couldn’t be as long as he and Ginny were together. As he strode away from the house, he heard the door open and close behind him. “Harry! Wait!” It was Lupin again. Harry stopped and turned as Remus hurried up. “Harry, you shouldn’t be going off by yourself. It’s getting dangerous.” Remus gestured to the thickening mist. “There was a report of a big swarm of dementors. Nymphadora and Kingsley both had to leave for the Ministry. Please, come back inside.” Harry looked back at the Burrow. Muffled shouts and a thumping noise came from the second floor; someone was stamping her foot very emphatically. “I’ll be fine. I won’t go far. My foot’s not bothering me anymore. I need to take a walk.” “Harry, you have to look at it from Molly’s point of view. She loves you like a son, but if it got out that Harry Potter had been in her daughter’s bedroom, at night, an underage witch –“ “Nothing happened! We weren’t up there to do anything! She was showing me the sunrise.” It sounded lame even to Harry. “Nothing happened,” he said again more quietly. “I just wanted a little time alone with her. You have no idea what we’ve gone through.” He looked at the house again. “I promise I won’t go far. I have my wand. I can conjure a fully formed Patronus, you know.” Lupin smiled. “Yes, I know, I taught you how to do it. But I also know that you’ve been having problems with your magic.” Harry turned and began walking down the lane toward the clearing where, the summer before, he had crashed his Firebolt. The mist swirled in the early morning light; the sun had already disappeared behind the low—hanging overcast. He entered the clearing, still angry. Mrs. Weasley had no reason to interfere with him and Ginny. Ginny was right, it was only because she was a daughter – and the youngest child – that her mother was being so strict. What did her mum think would happen when they got back to school? Couples were always going off by themselves; he and Ginny had done it last year, and he bet that Arthur and Molly did it when they were at Hogwarts. Why did he and Ginny have to be shadowed like they were children? The sun dimmed and the sky darkened, and the air suddenly chilled. Harry looked up, and his insides lurched. A huge horde of dementors was coming over the treetops, filling the sky above the clearing. It quickly became colder. The leading edge of the swarm passed over in the direction of the Burrow, but single dementors began to break off and then large groups turned and headed straight for Harry. He was well out from the trees, and completely visible from above. He drew his wand with a trembling hand. He tried to speak the incantation, but his throat was constricted with fear. He stumbled backward. The dementor in the lead of the pack was the largest one he had ever seen. He kept on backing up, and forced the words from his mouth, ”Expecto Patronum!” But it came out as a pathetic croak, and nothing came from his wand. The dementors, dozens of them, began circling him. More joined from the cloud above. The grass was withering in the awful cold, and everything around him seemed to be darkening. Something brushed his back; he whirled and was face—to—face with the huge dementor. He raised his wand, and tried desperately to think of something happy. He filled his mind with the first sight he had had of Ginny yesterday, and again cried out, ”Expecto Patronum!” A wispy, translucent stag appeared at the end of his wand, and the dementor fell back. A bony hand gripped Harry’s shoulder, and he screamed. The Patronus disappeared. He tried to run, but the hand pulled him back and threw him to the ground. The dementor loomed over him; he could feel nothing but hopeless despair. It’s hooded face drew nearer, and cold and terror filled Harry’s soul. He would never see Ginny again. She had taken him back; she had saved him. He looked up; she had to be there, to save him again. But inches from his face was an eyeless dark form surrounded by black shadow. And somehow, that awoke, deep inside him, the remembrance of something similar, something that had been beyond happiness. Ginny’s form flashed into his mind, haloed with a fiery red circle of sunlight. That was what he would never see again. Burning rage and fury against his fate, against destroyed hope, engulfed him and surged through his body. Harry jerked his wand up and thrust it into the dementor’s face. A golden—white stag erupted from the wand, brilliant as the sun and with red fire in its eyes. It crashed into the dementor, which exploded into flames and collapsed to the ground with a horrid shriek. The stag bowled over three more dementors and all became flaming torches. It circled back, and quickly dozens of dementors were burning. Screams filled the air. The stag circled Harry. It did not drive the dementors away; it was a bolt of lightning, streaking around the clearing, incinerating dementors before they could turn and flee. Some became entangled in tree branches, and soon the forest was on fire. The clearing, outside a swath around Harry, was covered with charred and flaming corpses. Black smoke filled the air and rose to the sky. Harry staggered to his feet, watching the holocaust in wonder and horror. He looked at his trembling wand. Where had that magic come from? He heard distant shouts. People were running down the lane, and Ginny was in the lead. She had her wand out, and before her flew a silver phoenix. It caught a dementor trying to escape down the lane in its talons and tossed it aside. The Patronus entered the clearing, but soared up in front of the carpet of flames that was the remains of countless dementors. The people behind it also stopped. But Ginny ran on, through fire and coals, kicking aside piles of smoking bones and rags with her dragon—hide boots. “Harry! My God! What happened? Are you hurt?” She stopped in front of him, completely out of breath. “I’m okay, I think.” He held his wand up, and looked at the stag standing only yards away. It stamped its legs, and flames shot from its hooves. Ginny backed away, and Harry put his arm around her. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he said in wonder. There were no more living dementors in sight. They could see, through the smoke, that the sun was out, and the mist over the clearing had disappeared. Ginny looked at Harry in awe. “How did you do that?” she whispered. “I think your magic is back.” Harry looked at the stag again, and tightened his arm around Ginny. “I saw the sun, just like it was in your room. That’s what brought it. You. Otherwise I would be dead, or worse.” Ginny put her arm around him. “Last summer, after you went back to Hogwarts, my mum told me that when you got better you would be your flaming old self again. Those were her very words.” They heard people calling out Aguamenti charms, and fountains of water began extinguishing the flames in the trees and around the clearing. Mad—Eye Moody was making his way toward them, dousing the fires in front of him with showers from his wand. He stopped momentarily when distant sirens sounded; he shouted something to Arthur Weasley and walked on into the clearing. Arthur turned and hurried back toward the Burrow. “That’ll be the Muggle fire department,” Ginny said. “They used to come out here a lot when Fred and George were still around. Dad knows how to deal with them.” “I guess they saw the flames. Half the forest was on fire.” Moody arrived, watching the stag with his magical eye as he approached. “What is that thing, Potter? How did you conjure it? I never saw anything like it.” Harry shrugged. “It came out of my wand.” “Obviously it came out of you wand. The question is how. What did you do?” Harry thought for a moment. He remembered the circle of sunlight, and the hope, and the rage he had felt when he was about to lose Ginny. “I saw something that made me totally happy, and then I thought I was going to lose it forever. I think I pointed my wand, and then that came out.” He nodded toward the stag, and it stamped flames again. Mad—Eye looked up at the blue sky, then at the black, smoking heaps lying about them. He turned both eyes on Harry. “You may have just won the war for us, Potter,” he growled. |
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