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Author: Tosca Story: Salvation Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 6 Words: 43,392
Ginny had lost her ability to breathe. Air would not fill her lungs; she had tried numerous times to revive her oxygen supply, but her body would not cooperate with her. A sort-of shock had blanketed her whole self, sending her into a numb plane of existence. It was like she had separated from her physical self and was watching the drama play out from a different point of view. Distantly, she felt a hand on her forehead, fingers on her wrist, voices in her ear, but nothing registered. It was too much for her to take in. Albus Dumbledore had just told her how to cancel out her connection with Voldemort. And it was nothing like what she had expected. His exact words were calm, unattached; something like, "Harry will perform a protection spell on you, and then you will both perform a physical possession to nullify Voldemort's control." She had grabbed the meaning of "physical possession" almost immediately, and that was what led to her current state of shock. She and Harry had to... Oh dear. The visualization of it came to her in a flash. With a jolt, she was breathing, her heart was pounding, a blush suffused her whole body, and she was back to herself. The warm blue eyes of the headmaster gleamed at her, twinkling in a way she didn't appreciate. Holy hell, her headmaster was discussing this with her! Mortification mixed with her embarrassment and surprise; she had to look down at her lap, knowing her face matched the hue of her hair by now. How could Harry take this? Why wasn't he as horrified as she was? "Ginny, are you all right?" His voice was gentle, soothing her slightly. Slightly. She tried to find her voice. "Yes, I'm fine," she murmured, voice no more than a fast breath. Braving a glance up, she met Harry's gaze and saw a hidden nervousness inside the cool green. It reassured her, and she forced herself to look at the headmaster again. "Who found this spell, again?" she asked weakly, damning herself for not being more composed. "Hermione, of course. It was while she was here," Dumbledore said promptly. Ginny's stomach churned; Hermione found it? Bloody hell, Hermione found this, a spell where she and Harry had to have sex to save her soul. The bookish, quiet girl who was her best friend; where did she find this? "Is it the only option?" she asked, searching for strands of logic in her frazzled mind. "It's the only possible one; we haven't found anything else for your particular case," the headmaster said. She was a case. A freak show. Merlin, how was she supposed to decide something like this? "You haven't said anything, Ginny," Harry said quietly. She glanced at him; his fringe had fallen into his eyes, hiding his gaze from her. Her heart hurt suddenly, and she wished desperately for some sort of logical thought to hit her; he obviously was ready to do this for her and was only waiting for her answer. Swallowing, she wrenched her eyes back to Dumbledore. "How would we do this?" she asked slowly. The headmaster's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he answered her anyway. "We would use Harry's Head Boy rooms, since they are most convenient. It would have to be soon; I leave it to you to decide when." Biting her bottom lip, she furrowed her brow. This was a step of extreme proportions; was she ready for something like this? Her eyes strayed to Harry's dark profile once more, and again her heart felt as if it would shatter. There wasn't a choice where Harry was concerned; it was his safety, his life she was wrestling with. Her decision was made. "I'll do it," she said softly. Harry's gaze snapped to her as Dumbledore leaned forward. "Are you sure, Ginny?" he asked soberly. She met Harry's dark eyes. "Yes." Dumbledore sat back, looking satisfied with her answer. "You two can decide when you want to do this, and then let me know so Harry and I can start working on the spell," he said. Ginny nodded with Harry, eyes still trained on him. His gaze was on the headmaster now, cool and distant. "We'll let you know soon, sir," he said quietly as he got up from his chair. Standing, Ginny waited for Harry to head for the door before saying a weak farewell to the headmaster, and following him. The stairs were dark and cool, steadying her mind as thoughts slowed down to a normal pace. The nape of Harry's neck entranced her as she walked behind him, heading into the corridor. She was going to go all the way with Harry for the sake of her soul. Oh, this was ironic! Back at Christmas, she had been willing; if he hadn't stopped them, this whole problem could have been a moot point! She had to talk to Hermione; what was so special about this spell? "Ginny." With a start, she noticed Harry had stopped and she had continued to walk a few paces before he called to her. She turned to face him, feeling another blush rise to her face as his eyes traveled her face before settling at her gaze. "Yes, Harry?" she asked softly. His eyes were hooded, shaded from her gaze; she could almost feel the barriers fly up around him. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, honestly," he commented quietly. "This is your decision completely; if you don't want to, we won't." She had to smile; Harry was always worried about everyone other than himself. Did he understand that this was the only way to save them both? Even now, she could feel Tom clawing at her defenses, struggling to get to the front of her mind. She needed to be free of this. Besides, the way of doing it wasn't repulsive at all. A chill ran down her spine as she stepped towards him, laying a hand on his arm. "Harry, I want to. What do you think we were doing last night?" she teased lightly, feeling a blush heat her face. "I'm not losing anything that I wasn't planning on losing anyway. And if it helps me, then why not?" Their eyes met, and she could feel her knees weaken as heat pooled in her stomach; the look in his eyes burned her. "Why not," he repeated quietly. The corridor lapsed into silence; she felt tension emitting from every pore of his skin, and wondered just how long he had been thinking about this. She was having trouble breathing; the air was thick with feeling, an unspoken nervousness. If it was this hard to talk about, how would they be in the actual time and place? She blushed for what seemed like the hundredth time in as many seconds. Just picturing Harry and her doing everything was mind-boggling. "I suppose we should get back to the tower," Harry said abruptly, startling her from her thoughts. Nodding, she sighed softly. "Yes, you're right. It wouldn't be right for the Head Boy to be out after curfew, would it?" she joked, smiling at him as they began to walk down the corridor. He cracked a weak smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. None of his rare smiles ever reached his eyes these days, and she was bereft without seeing his eyes sparkle. The silence was almost unbearable as they walked, not touching or even looking at the other. The thought of not sleeping in the same room as him shook her; what if he did something to himself, and she wasn't there to stop it? What if her dreams came back, haunting her with pictures of death and loss? Hold me, please, she pleaded silently with the stoic man at her side. I can't bear to leave you now. As if he had heard her, he halted mid-step, only a few yards away from the waiting Fat Lady. As he turned his eyes to her, she saw the same desperation inside him; he echoed her, complemented her need, made her jolt with the want of him around her. His face seemed hollow and blank at first, but by now she could see underneath the mask, see the pain of being alive without Remus in his skin. It was much like what she had seen a little over a year ago, when she helped Harry through the death of Sirius. Suddenly his arms were around her, pinning her to the wall with his weight. His mouth was hot on hers, painfully desperate and filled with an unending sense of anguish. She melted into him, wanting to curl up and disappear into his warmth, letting him push against her. There was wetness on her face and neck, but whose it was was anyone's guess. She didn't care; she just let herself be kissed and comforted. She held him and opened up, letting his whole self pour into her through her lips, and for right then, it was enough ~*~ Hermione wasn't stupid. When Harry and Ginny had returned from Dumbledore's office last night, she had seen and felt the tension between them, a tension that had not existed only a few hours ago. It had only heightened in the morning at breakfast, when Ginny sat next to Harry and held his hand, but wouldn't meet his eyes. And when Harry, Ron, and she had left for their first class of the day, she could see the relief on Ginny's face, however slight it might have been. No, something had happened last night. Hermione was determined to find out what. Defense Against the Dark Arts was their first class, much to Hermione's displeasure. She could almost see the wheels in Harry's head turn as they entered the classroom; she knew what he was thinking. Who would be the new professor, now that Remus was gone? Remus was gone. And it was never clearer or more painful than when she sat in her usual seat and saw an empty desk at the front of the room. Ron stiffened at her side; she put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Harry did nothing but stare into space, knuckles white underneath his desk. More of their classmates filed in, some stopping briefly at them to say hello. None expressed condolence, but who really knew how close Harry and Remus had been, other than the Order? They were all sad; Hermione could see that. But did any of them really understand what kind of a loss Remus was to the world? The tension radiated off of Harry as the class waited for someone to come in. His face was a mask, but by now Hermione could read him like a book. He was nervous, unhappy, anguished; she didn't know how to help him, and she wanted to help him desperately. The door to the classroom opened suddenly; everyone turned their heads to see the new professor. A sweep of dark robes, and Professor Dumbledore walked in, a tired and welcoming smile on his face. "I apologize for being late, class. I was held up by Mr. Filch," he said as he walked up to the front of the room. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes; the headmaster was going to teach? At her side, Harry started, an unreadable look on his face. Dumbledore's light gaze traveled the shocked class, resting a little longer on the trio in the back. "In light of the surprise of Professor Lupin's death, I did not have time to find a suitable replacement. Therefore, I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. This level is particularly difficult, but I'm sure you will all do very well." He continued to speak, but Hermione was more concerned with the man sitting on her left. The tension surrounding Harry still hadn't faded; if anything, it had heightened with the appearance of the headmaster. For the first time in her life, Hermione tuned out a professor and leaned towards Harry. "What's wrong with you, Harry?" she murmured, causing Harry to look at her in a muted sort of surprise. "What do you mean?" he replied softly. She raised an eyebrow as Ron leaned into the conversation. "Ever since you came back from Dumbledore's office last night, you've been really tense. What happened?" Harry glanced at the headmaster and then back at Hermione. "I'll tell you later, I promise." * Later had been an understatement. She didn't get a chance to corner him until after dinner, due to his adept avoiding skills and the progression of her classes. Having one more class than her two best friends, she didn't get to dinner until late and by then Harry had already eaten and gone. Ginny was the only one of the four to be at the table; she informed Hermione that Harry and Ron had gone out for a bit of a fly with Dean and Seamus. So, Hermione and Ginny finished dinner together, talking briefly. Hermione could feel the same tension coming from Ginny as from Harry, and it had reminded her of her mission. After dinner, Ginny left Hermione in the common room to take a walk outside. Soon after, the boys came in, brooms in hand. Hermione was already at work on her homework for Defense (a foot-long essay on pagan curses, ironically enough) when they came in, Ron and Harry coming to sit by her directly. She didn't look up. "Well, have a nice fly?" Ron slid his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah; it was good to get back in the air. It's a real shame Quidditch was canceled," he said. "And you, Harry? Did you enjoy it?" she asked, glancing up for a moment. He shrugged. "I suppose so." "Ginny was going out to take a walk; did you see her?" she said, gazing at him to gauge his reaction to the mention of his girlfriend. She thought she saw a flash of something in his eyes, but his face stayed perfectly smooth. "No; she must have gone to the lake or something," he replied tonelessly. Heaving a sigh, Hermione set her quill down and looked Harry fully in the eye. "Are you going to tell us what happened in Dumbledore's office now?" she asked. He hesitated, and she felt Ron tense on her shoulders. Harry's eyes went from her to Ron and back again. "We told Ginny about a protection spell," he said slowly, eyes averted from Ron's gaze. Ron jumped in surprise as her eyes widened, noting Harry's choice of words. Ron didn't know about the spell she had found; maybe it was better he didn't know the particulars. She found herself getting nervous. "Did you decide anything?" she asked softly, apprehensively waiting his answer. "She agreed to do it." Ron let out a cry of joy as Hermione leaned back in her seat, suddenly understanding a lot of the odd behavior between Harry and Ginny this past day. If she and Ron were put in that kind of situation, she didn't know if she would be able to look him in the eye either. "What do you have to do, Harry?" Ron asked excitedly. Harry shot a pleading look at Hermione, who swooped in immediately. "It's just a spell, an old pagan protection spell," she said quickly. "I found it a few weeks ago." Ron grinned down at her. "Of course you did; I knew you would." She flushed slightly as he kissed her cheek and stood. "Give me your broom, Harry; I'll put them away," he said, taking Harry's broom and heading upstairs to the dormitory. Fixing Harry with a knowing gaze, she shut her Defense textbook. "Is that why you and Ginny won't look at each other?" A red tinge came to his cheeks. "I can't help it. I don't know what to say to her. It feels like I'm forcing her into doing this, like she's only doing it because she has to," he muttered. Sympathy filled Hermione, and she put a hand on his arm. "Of course she wants to do it, Harry. Are you telling me you haven't done anything..." she trailed off, blushing as Harry's face darkened. She didn't expect him to answer that query, but he did. "Only once," he said, voice no more than a whisper. "The night before last, before we came to Hogwarts." Remaining silent, she was actually shocked. He and Ginny were always so close to each other; she had assumed that they had done more than he just admitted. Abruptly, he looked up at her, something akin to anger in his eyes. "We haven't had the chance to do much, Hermione," he snapped quietly. "She's been possessed by the mortal enemy of the wizarding world and we've broken up twice in the past six months. That doesn't leave time for much." She straightened. "Excuse me! I would know that if you told me what was going on in your life instead of hiding it," she retorted, feeling defensive at his sudden attack. He looked as if he was going to storm away from her, but suddenly the anger melted from his face. Averting his eyes to his feet, a sigh rushed through him. "I'm sorry. It's not you I'm angry at; I just hate feeling like this, like I'm helpless against everything," he said quietly, putting his head in his hands. Her hands moved to his back; she rubbed soothingly, feeling rather helpless herself. "You're not helpless. We're all here for you," she said. "I know. But what if..." he trailed off, sounding lost. He was lost, she realized. And Ginny was most likely feeling the same way. "Harry, go find Ginny." He raised his head, meeting her gaze in surprise. She smiled slightly, patting him on the back. "Go find her, and talk to her. She needs you right now; she's just as confused," she said softly. Gazing at her for another moment, a small smile crossed his face. After reaching over to squeeze her arm, he was out of the common room in a blur. And when Ron came back to her, Hermione wrapped her arms around him and told him she loved him. ~*~ It was near curfew, but Harry didn't care. He raced through the doors of the entrance hall, feeling the light September breeze hitting his heated skin and relishing the coolness for a moment. Walking down the steps onto the grassy lawn, he scanned the grounds, looking for a certain redhead. Hermione had finally hammered some sort of sense into him, and he had to make up for any lost time. It was the first time he had been thinking clearly for about a week. Since Remus' death, his mind had been muddled, confused; last night's meeting with Dumbledore hadn't helped. How was he supposed to have reacted when Ginny said yes so quickly? And then he kissed her in the corridor... He was just confused. He needed to talk to her, to make sure she would be ok. If he was this distressed, how must she be feeling? Summer lingered in the air; it was a warm night, a perfect night for being outside. He went towards the lake, spotting a small form sitting near the shores. Red hair reflected in the blistering sun, still high enough in the sky for them to see clearly by. Approaching her slowly, he tried to decide what to say to her; what could he say? They hadn't spoken all day. His tread was nearly silent as he came to her side. She had her knees tucked up to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. As he sat down next to her, her eyes met his for the first time that day. "Hi," he greeted quietly, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning on his hands. Smiling weakly, she shifted closer to him. "Hi." "How are you doing?" he asked, telling himself it was better to start out slow. Ginny shook her head. "I think I should be asking you," she said softly. That was Ginny; all she did was worry for him, for her family, for the rest of the world. She had to think about herself once in a while, didn't she? "No, Gin. I want to talk about you," he said softly but firmly. "We haven't talked about what happened last night." She kept quiet, gazing out onto the placid lake. Her hair, pulled back by its usual ribbon, ruffled in the breeze, a few tendrils framing her face. He watched her profile as the silence blanketed them, seeing the smooth face and wondering what she hid underneath her own façade. "I'm not scared of you or what we're going to do. I'm just nervous, you know?" she said abruptly, turning to meet his gaze. Oh, yes. He knew exactly what she meant. But he couldn't think of anything brilliant to tell her so, to communicate his empathy. All he could do was agree. "Yes, I know what you mean," he said quietly. Glancing at him quickly, Ginny sighed. The ring on her hand sparkled brightly in the sun as she twisted it, something he had noticed she did habitually. It never occurred to him why, and he dove at the chance for conversation. "You play with your ring a lot, Ginny," he commented, startling her. She blushed lightly, a small smile crossing her face. "It's a habit now, I guess. Sometimes I think it will make me think better, if I use it," she confessed softly, meeting his eyes from beneath her dark lashes. "It makes me feel better to have it." His heart felt full to bursting; not with the usual sadness, but with a sense of love and warmth that came from her words. He never fully knew what the ring meant or represented to her, and now he felt like he was one step closer to knowing. It made him feel less nervous about what he had to say, settled his jumping insides. With a soft shuffle, she leaned against him, her cheek dropping to his shoulder. "I never take it off, you know," she said softly. He slid an arm around her, bringing her even closer to him. Her warmth penetrated him, making him feel light-headed. "Does it mean that much, Ginny?" he asked quietly, looking down at her head. Lithe neck arching, she met his gaze. "Of course it does," she said, eyes dark with something intangible. "This was my only hope for a time. It was the only thing that kept me going; it was a promise of the future." Heat burned through him, and he marveled at her. "How can you just say stuff like that?" he asked incredulously. A small smile graced her mouth. "Because I mean it. It's not bad to say what you mean, Harry." Well, then why not? Why not say what he meant? "Do you really want to do this spell, Ginny?" he blurted out quickly, the queasiness coming back with a vengeance. "I won't force you; I don't want you to do this if you don't want to." "But this is the only way to help us," she said fiercely, her eyes flashing. He let out a deep breath. "But if you aren't ready, then it's not right." She processed this for a moment, eyes going to the lake once more. Her silence shook him, and he was ready to speak again when her eyes came to him abruptly. "Don't... Don't you want me, Harry?" she asked, voice constricted. Her eyes shone gently in the approaching sunset. Her question rocked him; his muscles went slack, jaw dropping in surprise. How... How could she think he wouldn't want her? Pulling her into his lap suddenly, he took her surprised face between his hands and brought her forehead to his. "I... Merlin, Ginny, you have no idea how much..." he stuttered, heat rushing to his face. A blush colored her cheeks as she adjusted herself, her legs across his thighs. Jumpy and nervous, all the while Harry felt amazed at how she just fit with him. It was incredible to him, and he grazed her smooth face with the pads of his thumbs. "I... I love you," he murmured, heart pounding painfully against his ribs. "You have no idea how much I want you." His voice was nothing but a low whisper, but she heard every word. Face flushing to match her hair, she shut her eyes, breath coming fast. "I've waited so long to hear that," she whispered. "You would write it, but you never said it." Guilt crept into his heart, and he brought her lips to his briefly. "I'm sorry." Her hands slid against his robes up to the nape of his neck, causing him to shiver slightly with her touch on his skin. "Don't be sorry, Harry. I knew you would say it when you were ready." Her lips grazed his cheek, eyes still shut. She was so close to him, so close... It was almost suffocating. And he welcomed it, wanted the opportunity to drown in her. His arms slid down to wrap around her waist, drawing her completely against him. Her mouth was by his ear, warm breath causing the most maddening sensations to drive through him. "I know I'm young," she said quietly, lips brushing his earlobe as she spoke, "but you're only a year older. And I love you. I don't want to be away from you ever again if I don't have to. We can't let him beat us, not when we're so close." "The only thing he doesn't understand: love," Harry said quietly, remembering his last words with Remus with a jump of his heart. He felt her smile on his skin. "And you have plenty of it all around you." "I know," he replied. And suddenly, he did know. He did understand. There was love all around him, some latent and some obvious. It was exactly how Remus had said; he had many to lean upon. A sigh fluttered through her. "Maybe we should go in; it must be close to curfew," she said softly, tone reluctant. Harry pulled back slightly, gazing at her glowing face. "You're right, we should." Still, neither of them moved. He didn't want her to leave his arms, not after all that had passed between them tonight. An idea sprang hesitantly in his mind, causing him to inhale sharply. Could they maybe have one night without the pressures of a spell? Was that allowed? Of course it was, a voice in his mind nagged. The Hermione Voice. The thought of Hermione telling him all this made him squirm internally, but the look in Ginny's eyes made all thought halt completely. It was... It was one he had never seen before. "Harry..." she said breathlessly, tone making every muscle in his body jump. "Do we... Does the spell need..." Her cheeks flushed. "Oh hell," she muttered. Abruptly, it dawned on him that she was trying to ask him the same thing he was asking himself. Did they need to be... Well, "pure" for the spell to work? Before he realized what he was doing, he was shaking his head. "I don't think so, Ginny," he said slowly, amazed at his own coherent words. She inhaled deeply, licking her dry lips quickly. "I don't want to leave you tonight," she said steadily. "I don't want you to," he replied instantly, insides knotting from something completely opposite of queasiness. Biting her bottom lip, she looked at him from beneath her lashes. Her gaze held something nameless, yet he understood completely. With a care he didn't know he possessed, he set her from his legs onto the ground and stood, holding out a hand to her. She quickly accepted, and soon they were walking back to the castle, facing a brilliant sunset of red and gold and grasping each other's hands tightly. Harry's mind reeled; this could not be happening, he had to be dreaming... "Harry?" He glanced at her as they entered the entrance hall. "Hmm?" Her face was a becoming shade of red. "How do I get to your room without being seen?" she asked very softly, almost so he couldn't hear her. Blinking, his mind went blank. How was she supposed to get up there? It was only accessible through the boys' dormitory steps, and someone was bound to notice her walking up the stairs. An idea dawned on him, and he grinned slightly. "Ask Hermione; she knows how to handle it," he said, remembering how his friend had gotten into his dormitory last term, after Wormtail's capture. Ginny blinked, and he saw her smile grow as the realization hit her. Laughing softly, she squeezed his hand. "Maybe I'll have her teach me a trick or two, hmm?" She raised a suggestive eyebrow. His stomach did flip-flops as they approached the Fat Lady. What was he in for tonight? * Harry left Ginny in the common room and raced to his Head Boy rooms immediately, only stopping to talk to Ron for a few moments. He had needed to at least make his bed and shower before Ginny got up here, even if it wouldn't matter when she did get here. So, half an hour after leaving her, he was freshly showered, hair still damp, and the room was slightly neater. His nervousness seemed to grow as the minutes passed; he paced, he sat, he paced again. He didn't know what to do, what to say; all he knew was that Ginny was going to be here, and they were going to do... Unknowable things. Unimaginable, impossible, wonderful things. Blood soared straight through his veins at the thoughts running through his head, and he shut his eyes. If he kept this up, soon he would need another shower. Suddenly, the door creaked open. His eyes flew open, and he saw her slip into the room, dressed in the normal black robes, hair tied back at the nape of her neck. Closing the door quietly, she turned and met his eyes, a small smile on her face. "I'm sorry I was so long," she said quietly. "Hermione and I had some things to discuss before she would do the charm." His eyes narrowed. "Like what?" he asked suspiciously. The glint in her eyes was teasing. "Oh, she wanted to know all the sordid details and such," she commented lightly, coming towards him. The look on his face must have been amusing, because she laughed as he looked at her in shock. "I was joking," she said. "She just wanted to make sure I knew what to do about things." He gulped nervously. "And did you?" he asked thickly. The smile grew as she came close enough to touch. "Look at my family, Harry; do you think my mother would let me go this far in life without teaching me a few things?" she teased. A smile to match hers curved his mouth. "I should have known," he said, reaching out and pulling her to him. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she smiled wider. "Maybe," she whispered, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him. He tightened his grip on her, kissing her back with a fierceness he hadn't known he possessed until a few moments ago. Just seeing her walk into his room with that smile had undone him, driving him crazy. Her mouth opened to him and he felt everything she felt, knew how to move against her. Fingers tugged his hair, spiking it up as he felt the curve of her hip through the thick cloth of her robes. It was losing himself inside her, and if it got better than this, he didn't know if he could handle it. Her hands slid down his chest to find the claps of his robes, and suddenly he felt the need to make sure, to ask her one more time. He pulled away from her mouth reluctantly, meeting her glazed eyes firmly. Breathing labored, he looked down at her flushed face. "Are... Are you sure?" he asked huskily. She gazed at him for a moment, eyes dark and warm. Then, she reached for one of his hands and pulled him close to her, placing his hand over the scar she carried on her heart, an echo of his own. The feeling of her heart beating under his touch, matching the pace of his own caused the breath to leave him. "I love you, Harry," she said, voice never wavering. "Love me." Keeping his hand entwined with hers over her heart, he slipped his other hand into her hair and kissed her fiercely, everything leaving his mind except for the frantic need threatening to drown him. Then he felt her fingers in his hair and on his robes and all logical thought left him. Surrendering to himself, he took her in his arms and promised silently to never let her go. ~*~ A/N: Many thanks to my fab betas Joe and Anne, who have been with me through thick and thin. To those who look for an outtake, Ashwinder has been kind enough to write one. It is under my penname (Tosca) at Checkmated!, so please check that out if you are so inclined. Please review!
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