A/N: Thanks to Ima Quidditch Fan for beta reading this at such short notice. She gave me so many thoughtful suggestions! Thank you, thank you.

I do these challenges for writing practice and to stretch my imagination. In this story, I tried out omniscient point of view. Any comments about that or anything else are always appreciated.

Hex The Nargles Off The Mistletoe

Draco Malfoy was like a feverish cold - an annoyance that could be ignored on the best of days, and a horrible distraction that could make a bad day worse. Harry had problems with both the day of the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.

Somehow, in a driving snowstorm, within the first three minutes of the match, Malfoy sensed that Harry was protective of the new fifth year Chaser. So he directed Crabbe and Goyle to make sure every Bludger was aimed her way. Luckily for Draco, she had bright red hair, so he was able to pick her out through the thick curtain of snow. It made it so much easier to pile right in to her.

"He's after you," Harry croaked urgently during the time-out Katie called. He had pulled Ginny away from the rest of the team and was trying to talk past the scratchiness in his throat.

"So what!" Ginny snapped rubbing her arm where Malfoy had managed to sideswipe her. "This is Quidditch, Harry. They are Slytherins - no one is going to play nice today."

"I'll say," he muttered. Still, he wasn't going to stand by and let those thugs go after Ginny. They were so much bigger than she was - luckily she was an excellent flier and had out-maneuvered the clumsy Bludgers and the equally clumsy Malfoy.

Ginny seemed to know revenge was on his mind. "You're Seeker, remember?" Her eyes flashed. "It's not your job to worry about me. The Beaters can do it."

Harry looked at Sloper and Kirke. His glance told her what he thought of their abilities.

"Stop it!" she warned. "Just catch the Snitch before I end up hexing that git myself."

"No one would know in all of this snow," he said, only half-joking.

"Don't tempt me," she said with a smile.

They flew back into the skies and resumed the match. The red Quaffle and the scarlet cloaks of his teammates were the only colors in the white world. Harry was starting to become mesmerized by the swiftly falling snowflakes. He strained his eyes looking for Ginny, and then he reminded himself that he was supposed to be looking for the Snitch.

Shaking his head, he briefly closed his eyes to make the whiteness go away - it was making him dizzy. I must be coming down with something, he thought.

"Harry!" Ginny flew next to him, frowning.

"Where did your hair go?" he asked. She was covered in snow - except for her eyes - they were warm brown. Suddenly he was so cold.

"Harry?" Her voice sounded so far away. "Are you ill?"

He wasn't sure, but there was something gold and alive hovering around her right ear. He wanted that gold thing - it would warm him - straight to his soul. He only had to put his arm around her and everything would be all right . . .

Startled, Ginny didn't know what was happening as he stared glassily at her, and then reached around her shoulders. Turning her head, she saw his fingers close around the Snitch, and then she felt him slump against her.

"Dragon Pox!"

"No one gets Dragon Pox these days."

"They do if they never had the immunization potion," a voice said grimly.

"Why doesn't he have spots?"

"Internal - the worst kind to have."

Harry could barely hear the distant voices over his teeth chattering. His eyelids were so heavy - too heavy to lift and see if he was still on his broom or holding the Snitch. Maybe Ginny would know. "Ginny?"

"Mr. Potter! Don't try to talk - you are very ill." It was Madam Pomfrey, so he must be in the hospital wing . . .

The dragon's breath was hot - so hot that he was burning. Ron doesn't believe me . . . I will not tell lies . . . I will not tell . . .

If you touch me you'll burn - Voldemort couldn't touch me when someone loved me - now he can touch me.

Ginny is in the Chamber and the sky is red. "Ginny?"

Harry was tossing and turning, sweat on his forehead. "I'm here," Ginny said, taking his hand.

He nodded, his black hair a striking contrast to the white sheets. Ginny didn't understand about the dragon - maybe he was reliving the Tri-Wizard tournament. Some things she did understand and they chilled her to the bone.

"Her hair used to be red - but now it's all white,"he murmered. "She's not dead is she?" He was so pale and his lips were cracked and dry.

"I'm here, Harry - I'm not dead." She brushed the hair back from his hot forehead.

"Please don't be dead, Ginny," he whispered.

Her heart turned over at hearing those words. She thought she had dreamed them once, long ago.

"Miss Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, coming over with a goblet that was sending off silver sparks. "Can you stay? Dragon Pox patients have terrible hallucinations and it helps if a loved one is near."

"I'm not a loved one," Ginny said quickly.

"He seems to think so," Madam Pomfrey said dryly as she trickled a dropper full of sparkling blue potion into Harry's mouth.

For three days Harry had a dangerously high fever, and for three days Ginny spent as much time as she could by his bedside. She tried to do her homework in the comfortable chair Madam Pomfrey provided, but she couldn't concentrate when Harry was so agitated.

Ron and Hermione haunted the hospital wing, taking turns reassuring Harry and explaining to Ginny what he was talking about. From those long nights by his bedside, Ginny was coming to understand what terrible fears were haunting him and what deep longings he had in his heart.

In some surreal way, probably brought on by her own sleep deprivation, Ginny felt like she had lived through these things as well: Sirius's death, Voldemort's rise to power, his young life with the Dursleys.

She hated to go out into castle to try to act normally. Nothing her friends were talking about seemed remotely interesting. It was all kid stuff compared to what Harry was going through. Draco Malfoy was not making it any easier.

"We thought the Dark Lord was going to finish him off," he taunted Ginny. "Looks like catching the Snitch was the last thing he's ever going to do."

"Looks like going through that door is the last thing you're ever going to do, Malfoy," she told him right before she blasted him. Professor Flitwick didn't give her a detention for some reason. "Report to me when Harry is better," he had said.

That evening, when Ginny didn't think she could take much more worry, Madam Pomfrey met her at the door. "His fever broke. He's very weak, but coherent now. You can talk to him - but just a minute, mind."

Elated, she hurried over. "Harry!" she said, taking his hand like she had done for the past three days.

"Ginny?" He didn't have his glasses on. "What are you doing here?"

"I - " She could believe that he didn't know she had been by him for his entire ordeal. "Don't you remember?" she asked trying not to resent the fact that she had been up day and night worrying about him, getting behind on her homework.

His hand was slack in hers and then he pulled away, ever so slightly. "I - um -"

She dropped his hand on the covers. "Never mind, Harry - I've heard enough." Then she stalked off with out another word.

Harry listened to her footsteps. His hand felt cold and his head was throbbing. "Come back," he whispered to the ceiling, not understanding why she was suddenly so important to him.

Ginny rubbed her weary eyes and tried to remember the password to enter Gryffindor tower. It didn't help that two people were arguing in the corridor.

"No way! You can send Filch a box for this stupid project of yours, Hermione. I want nothing to do with it."

"It's not my project! You heard Professor McGonagall! Every house is doing something for Boxing Day. Gryffindor was given the support staff. If Mr. Filch gets a box from us, it might change him."

"That's pushing magic and miracles a bit beyond their limits," Ron retorted. They were at the portrait hole now. It looked like they had been arguing all the way from Professor McGonagall's office, since Ron's ears and face were dark red and Hermione's hair was standing on end where she had rubbed her head in frustration.

They broke off when they saw Ginny. "Ginny, you look terrible. Is Harry worse?" Hermione asked putting her hand on Ginny's arm.

"No," Ginny said shortly. "He's finally in his right might mind, which means he doesn't want anything to do with me."

Hermione glanced at Ron.

Ginny didn't like that glance, since it implied a lot - like they had discussed her before - like they had discussed her and Harry before.

"What's the password?" she asked her brother in a cold voice.

Ron smirked. "Tis the season."

Harry closed his Potions textbook with a relieved sigh. He was finally caught up. The three days of fever had been followed by three weeks of convalescence. That time away from classes had put him dangerously behind. But with a week of solid effort, he was no longer worried about failing his sixth year.

"Hey," Ron said, sitting across from him at the library table. "Are you about caught up?" he asked looking at the huge pile of parchments Harry had at his elbow.

"Just finished the last make-up assignment for Snape."

"Stupid git," Ron said automatically, not really thinking about Snape.

"What am I expected to do?" Ron flared. "He was going to whip Fred and George! He was in league with Umbridge. And Hermione thinks I should forgive him and let by-gones be by-gones." Ron moodily started shredding a half torn piece of parchment. "I might as well send a box to Peter Pettigrew while I'm at it."

"Cheese is always good."

Ron laughed and then sobered. "Do you think I'm wrong? Not wanting to forgive that git?"

Harry looked at Ron closely. This really was bothering him. It would be the height of hypocrisy for Ron to 'forgive' Filch - Harry knew that. But he also knew that Ron wanted to do the right thing.

"I reckon," he said slowly. "I reckon you don't have to give forgiveness unless someone asks for it." He thought about Dumbledore saying he was sorry in this his office after Sirius died last year. Even though Harry had felt so betrayed, he couldn't help but forgive the Headmaster.

Ron's face cleared. "Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, but Hermione would just say that I should be the big person and make the first step."

"Ha," Ron shifted in his chair. "No - but I want to be friends with Hermione." This was the closest Ron had ever admitted to having feelings about Hermione.

"Well," Harry said, "You're either going to have to change her mind or change yours."

"I'm still working on changing hers," Ron said with a note of battle in his voice.

Harry was glad that Ron wasn't giving up.

"So - what about Ginny? Have you talked to her yet?" Ron asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry had been so busy he had barely talked to his dorm mates. He had seen glimpses of her in the Great Hall at mealtimes but that was it.

"You should have heard what she said earlier."

The last thing Ginny had said to him was 'I've heard enough.' What had she heard while he was so sick? Madam Pomfrey had told him that he talked nonstop through his fever.

"-and she was really worried about you," Ron was saying. "Asked Hermione and I about some of things you were raving about."

"She did?" Cold dread filled his stomach. No wonder she had heard enough and couldn't forgive him. He couldn't forgive himself for some of the mistakes he had made in his life.

The weather remained frosty and so did Ginny. All Harry could do was watch her from a far, knowing there was no way for him to undo the past. The only bright spot was that he was regaining strength after his long illness. He still had to report to Madam Pomfrey three times a week, but that he could tolerate.

Harry checked his watch outside of the hospital wing; he was twenty minutes early for his appointment. It was so cold in the corridor he could see his breath. He decided to take a walk to keep warm, which was how he found himself outside of the Ravenclaw tower, idly wondering why the reindeer head on the opposite wall was considered interior decoration. There he ran into Ginny. Or rather, she ran into him.

"Oh! Harry! What are you doing here?" she asked, breathless from her quick walk to Professor Flitwick's office and the surprise of seeing Harry so unexpectedly.

"Just waiting to take my potion."

"Are you feeling better?" she asked before she could stop herself. She was forgetting to snub him for snubbing her in the first place.

"Yes, thanks." His expression was closed. "I'll just get going."

"Right," she said, her anger mounting. "Why would you talk to me?"

He whirled around and threw her words back. "I thought you had heard enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You said that in the hospital wing when I woke up."

Ginny couldn't honestly remember what she had said. She had been so tired and so angry when he didn't talk to her like a normal person - like a normal friend - that all she remembered was walking out. "I don't remember what I said," she admitted.

"I don't either - but apparently I can't be forgiven for that," he said bitterly. "I have plenty to be sorry about as you obviously overheard. I don't know why you would want to bother with me anyway - now that you know . . ."

"Now that I know what?" Ginny asked, bewildered.

Harry stared at her a moment. The golden light from the torch was flickering over her hair. He remembered how he had been so cold and how she was the only warm thing he could latch on to. Now he didn't even have that. "All about me," he said, defeated. He wasn't angry anymore - just depressed.

Ginny saw his shoulders slump and the light of anger die from his eyes. He looked pale, like he had in that hospital . . . "Harry, wait."

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"Come with me to Professor Flitwick's office. I was supposed to be there five minutes ago. And then I'll go with you to Madam Pomfrey's." Then she added in a small voice, "We need to talk."

Harry looked at the reindeer's black eyes. Was it smirking at him? He was an idiot if he didn't take this peace offering. He turned around and was gratified to see the frown leave Ginny's face. "Ok," he said.

Professor Flitwick's office was a surprise. It was appropriately small, but was covered in posters of Muggle cinema stars, specifically martial arts and gunslinger cinema stars. Harry stared at a bare-chested Bruce Lee and then looked over at Clint Eastwood in his poncho. Sirius had been locked in this office before his escape. Harry wondered what he had thought of this décor.

"Ah - Miss Weasley," Professor Flitwick said, "Sit down. I see you brought Harry with you. That's just fine, since there is something both of you can do for me."

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. Ginny's glance was worried because she didn't want Harry to have to do some sort of detention just because she lost her temper with Malfoy. And Harry's was puzzled, because he wondered why Ginny owed Flitwick a personal favor.

"When I saw that particularly effective hex you used on Mr. Malfoy, I knew you were the person for this job," the professor said. He was standing on a high stool behind his desk. Ginny could just see his pointed hat over the ink well. She didn't notice Harry's startled stare.

"You know that Charms class for first years is basic? Levitating feathers and the like?" Flitwick asked.

"Yes," Ginny said.

"The Ministry wants to incorporate all aspects of personal protection into the curriculum this year - even non-defense classes. Since I was a dueling champion in my youth - " He indicated a huge trophy, as tall as he was, mounted on the wall behind him. "They thought I should teach of a few offensive charms. I've found that it is better for the students to see a demonstration, rather than just hear the theory. So the day before the holidays begin, I'd like you to demonstrate that hex to the class."

"You want me to hex you?" Ginny asked, alarmed.

"I did - but if Harry is agreeable, I think it would be better for you to hex him and have him block the hex."

"But -" Ginny began. "I can't hex Harry - at least not like that. I hexed Malfoy because I was angry with him."

"Dueling isn't about anger," Professor Flitwick stated. "It's about speed, agility, strength of mind." Then he added wryly, looking from Harry to Ginny, "Respecting your partner."

Ginny glanced at Harry who was looking bemused. Hadn't they just left their own duel unfinished in the corridor? Ginny smiled at the irony.

Harry let out a deep breath and relaxed into his chair at her smile. She wasn't angry with him anymore; she didn't want to fight him - but she did want to fight Draco Malfoy. The world was right again.

"I'll do it," Harry said.

"Harry -" She tried to protest, but Flitwick cut her off.

"Excellent! Then you both can help the students with practicing. I think I'll set up targets. I wonder what . . .?" Then he brightened and said triumphantly, "I know, we'll have them hex the Nargles off the mistletoe."

"This is the last of the potion, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, checking his pulse. "Yes, I think you can start practicing Quidditch after the holidays."

While Madam Pomfrey poked and peered at Harry, Ginny looked at the informational posters on the wall. The one that caught her eye was of a wizard smoking a pipe. In the cutaway illustration of his atrophied lungs, black worms wiggled about. Even If You Don't Inhale! Shrieked the poster. Ginny lifted her horrified eyes to the wizard's face. He shrugged and coughed, dislodging the worms for a second.

"And you, Miss Weasley." Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to Ginny. "You haven't come down with anything have you? Often the person who does the care giving will fall ill if they don't watch out. You were looking peaky toward the end of three days."

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Who was Ginny caring for?"

Ginny felt horribly ashamed. She was wrong to blame Harry for not remembering when Madam Pomfrey had just said . . .

Harry couldn't believe that Ginny had stayed with him until she was almost sick herself. If she were that disgusted with him, she never would have stayed so long. He could see that now.

Out in the corridor, they both tried to explain at once.

"Harry, I -"

"Ginny, I -"

They both stopped - and tried again. "Sorry," they said in unison.

"I wasn't angry with you for anything you told me," Ginny began. "Harry, you don't have to justify your life to me. I was just tired and upset and then when you didn't seem to remember - it just felt like -"

"Like what?" he prompted. He was listening intently, standing close to her.

She took a deep breath. "Like everything I had gone through with you didn't matter."

He was genuinely shocked that she would think such a thing. He looked at her bent head and then remembered how angry she had been with him last Christmas when he hadn't remembered her possession by Tom Riddle.

"It does matter - all of it." He said firmly. " I knew somebody was there with me - because - "

She looked up; there were two patches of red on her cheeks. "Because why?"

"Because - I didn't feel alone."

Her eyes looked amber in the torchlight. "You weren't alone."

"I hope - " he started, driven to say something to keep her standing there watching him with those warm eyes. "I hope I won't feel alone again."

She frowned. Unsure of what he meant, she tried to interpret the steady gaze and the suppressed emotion in his voice. Then she remembered all the things he had said about her during his illness. At the time she put them down as part of the fever - but now she wasn't so sure.

"Harry, are you trying to say," she asked, her heart beating faster. "That you want me to be your . . . friend?"

"You already are my friend," he pointed out.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything.

"Ginny," he said a bit desperately. "You stayed with me for three days - surely that means something."

It was true, Ginny realized. Actions did speak louder than words - and hers deeds had given her away as easily as his feverish words had given him away. "It does, Harry," she said huskily. "It does mean something."

"Good," he breathed.

"Move along! No fraternizing in the corridors!" Argus Filch yelled in his harsh voice. Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and together they fled down the stairs, away from the cranky caretaker.

"Now what?" Ginny asked as they stood under the interested portrait of the Fat Lady.

Harry grinned ruefully, knowing there wasn't a bit of privacy to be had in Hogwarts castle. "I say we hex the Nargles off the mistletoe and . . ."

"Stand under it," Ginny finished for him.

The hungry look he shot her made her blush.

Harry and Ginny followed Ron and Hermione to Hogsmeade on their first day of the Christmas holidays. They were carrying the plain white boxes that they were required to fill for Boxing Day. Somehow Ron had convinced Hermione that they didn't need to forgive Filch, or even talk to him, in order to fulfill their Gryffindor obligation of giving him a box.

Harry and Ginny had decided to give a box to Professor Flitwick. Considering how much fun they had had with his first year Charms class, and since that meager punishment was in lieu of a detention for Ginny, they felt they should show their appreciation somehow.

"I think Ron is missing the point of the boxes," Harry said as they disappeared into the shop.

Ginny giggled. "Oh, I think he has the right attitude. I'm not feeling too generous toward Filch either." The caretaker had interrupted them at a crucial moment, and they hadn't been able to find a bit of privacy since. Even the Nargle-free mistletoe from Professor Flitwick's classroom was no help, since it was in shreds after the first years finished hexing it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Ginny did her best to help Harry find a gift for Madam Pomfrey. After trudging through five shops, they found the Warm Hands/Warm Heart Kit at Gladrags. "Don't forget to activate the charm before you give it to her, Harry," Ginny said, reading the instructions on the back of the box.

They found the perfect gift for Professor Flitwick at the Magical Menagerie.

"Are you sure about this?" Ginny asked as the left the pet store. "Some people are allergic."

"You saw the posters in his office. He'll love it," Harry answered, grinning at the appropriateness of the gift.

In the split second Draco had to register the contents of the box, and try to close it again - a spitting, scratching ball of fur leaped at his face. The fighting hamster, complete with tiny nunchucks was going after Draco with all four paws in perfect balance. Its hind legs kicked, while its front paws wielded the nunchucks in elaborate patterns. Draco dropped the box and ran, overcome by the whirling blows of the hamster.

Harry and Ginny solemnly returned the bow of the hamster before putting it back into its box. "That wasn't a duel," Harry said, laughing.

"Or speed . . . or agility," Harry added.

"There was speed at the end," Ginny said, pointing to the three Slytherins disappearing into the falling snow.

They laughed together and then grew silent, suddenly aware that they were alone in a quiet world of white. Ginny turned to him, a question in her eyes.

"You know," Harry said, "I reckon if you can't hex the Nargles off the mistletoe, the next best thing is hexing Malfoy."

"We didn't hex Malfoy," she pointed out. The dark blue hood covering her head was dotted with white flakes, but her red hair blazed around her face.

"I'll go hex him if you want me to," he offered softly. His eyes were so green and alive.

"That's not what I want you to do," she breathed. She was speaking so quietly he had to move closer. Under the shelter of that dark blue hood, he found her - warm and soft and sweet . . .

These were her secrets, she realized, the things she was telling him in that feverish kiss - and she wanted him to know everything . . .

"Are you sure that's the right box?" Hermione asked the morning of Boxing Day.

"Yes," Ron retorted. "It's heavy like a book."

"What's with that one?" Ron asked, looking at the misshapen box Ginny was holding. "You didn't have help like Neville did - did you?"

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"It's obvious," Ron replied. "Luna probably made that box."

"The fighting hamster's been practicing his high kicks." Ginny shrugged. "We just have to wait for Harry to finish Madam Pomfrey's box and then we can all go together."

"What's he doing for her?"

"He's charming some gloves for her hands." Ginny giggled. "He says she has the coldest hands and maybe if she had some warming gloves - her patients would be a bit more comfortable."

Ron stared at Ginny, trying not to laugh. "Poor Harry. I think he liked your bedside manner better than Madam Pomfrey's."

"I don't need no book!" Argus Filch screamed before he threw it at Hermione, hitting her in the shoulder.

"Hey!" Ron yelled. "She was just trying to be kind."

"Get out!"

Hermione was white and trembling with shock out in the corridor. "Are you all right?" Ron asked.

"I can't believe it," she said turning to Ron, "I thought he'd like it."

Harry picked up the book that Filch had thrown. It was called, Magic Denied: A Squib's Emotional Journey to Acceptance. No wonder Filch had thrown it.

"I knew he would hate it," Ron confessed. "I should have stopped you from buying it."

"Why didn't you?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Because I hate the git - and I hate him even more now that he's hurt you." Ron said angrily. Then he put his hand on her arm, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Ron." Hermione's eyes were full of unshed tears. "I should have listened to you."

"No, it's good you tried to reform him." He smiled down at her. "Maybe someday you'll change more people around here besides me."

Hermione's eyes opened wide in amazement. "I've changed you?"

"A bit," he admitted. "I resisted the urge to contact Fred and George for help in making Filch a box."

"I wish we would have," Hermione said fiercely.

"I see I've changed you a bit too," Ron said.

"Harry," Ginny nudged him with her elbow. "Look, they're under the mistletoe."

"Think they realize it?" he asked.

"What do you think?" she countered with a soft giggle.

Ron and Hermione were locked in an embrace, oblivious to their surroundings.

Harry and Ginny went on to deliver their boxes to Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey. Professor Flitwick immediately named the hamster 'Chuck' and began to give it tips on counterbalance and the nine charkas. Madam Pomfrey sniffed, showed her new gloves to the worm-riddled wizard, and said how nice it was to have something to warm her hands after washing them in the icy cold water all day.

"I think Boxing Day went well," Harry said as he and Ginny took a late afternoon walk around the snowy grounds.

"Everyone liked their boxes," she agreed. "Well, except for Filch."

"As it should be," Harry said.

"This is one tradition I would like to start," he murmured, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"What's that? Kissing under the mistletoe?"

"Just each other," she said, putting her arms around his neck.

"Just each other and no illnesses or misunderstandings or . . ."

"Interruptions," she finished for him, moving her mouth over his cheek to find his lips.

"Harry?" Ginny asked a bit later, pulling away slightly.

"You're interupting the tradition."

She giggled. "I think next Boxing Day we should get a fighting hamster. They really are cute."

"Or a dueling Diricawl?" she added with a laugh and then she frowned. "You know, this isn't supposed to be the season for fighting."

"Right you are," he agreed, kissing her again. "Let's never fight."

"Harry, we don't fight, we duel."

"What's the difference?" he asked, interested now, even they weren't indulging in their tradition.

"When you fight, you just want to hurt each other. But when you duel you want to see what the other one is made of - to understand them." She frowned. "Do you know what I mean?"

"You mean, like after my illness, it was only after we talked that we really understood what was going on?"

"Right," Ginny said relieved. Just because she understood so much about him, that didn't mean he necessarily understood her. But now she could see that he was willing to try to understand - even if it meant a friendly duel now and then.

She smiled and put her arms around his waist.

"And I was right," he added, hugging her back.

A/N: These are the lines for the challenge I had to incorporate. Yes, I know that the fighting hamster isn't part of canon - but it could be. No reader could have predicted the bouncing ferret from reading PoA. LOL! The Magical Menagerie has a branch store at Hogsmeade, btw.

"You should have heard what she said earlier."

"Are you sure that's the right box?"

"Cheese is always good!"

"This is one tradition I would like to start."

"I wouldn't touch that box if I were you."

"It's obvious Luna probably made that box."