And the weirdness and truth-revealing begins! DUN. DUN. DUN.

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There was white everywhere—around the walls, on the ceiling, on the tiled floor, on the sheets, even outside the glass window. It seemed like the air had become thick and puffy, just a pale, white gas floating outside and taking up everything that used to exist. It was like having your eyes shut, except there was no darkness or funny spots of lights. It was all just a simple color.

A maddening color.

She was too young to know what lunacy was. The closest she had ever gotten to a dark feeling was when her brother had refused to tuck her into bed when she pouted for it. She didn't know how mentally sickening not being able to think could be, didn't know how not being able to see anything but a white fog could send someone into panic. A panic that was too strong for a child to know.

"Dem Dem."

Twisting her head towards the sides around her, a blonde little girl stopped her crawling in the room that seemed to extend the more she moved.

"Dem Dem."

She forced herself into a sitting position, the tiles cold against her skin as her little legs touched them. A bit of annoyance developed in her mind when she had looked down at herself just to see a white puffy dress on her. It seemed that wherever she was, there was no color permitted but the one of the insane.

"Bit fussy, aren't you?" Looking up to the sound of a voice echoing off the pallid walls, the little girl found a pair of silver eyes staring at her.

Her young heart picked up in rate, an excitement rushing into her blood stream.

The man with the silver in his gaze smiled gratefully at the girl—the same smile that he had always given her. "Took you quite the time to find this place, Demetria. I've been waiting for you for a while now, sweetheart."

Demetria rolled her brown eyes, little chubby arms folding across her chest.

Stepping closer to the child, just so he didn't look like a floating head, she noticed the pearly-white robes that man had on. "Are you frightened?"

At the question from the man, Demi practically snorted.

"Of course not. We taught you better." Reaching for the girl, the man smiled proudly as she outstretched her arms to him, impatient to be held. "A bit daunting at first, but you'll get used to the surroundings."

Resting her head against his shoulder, Demi found the same comfort as she got a whiff of the man's long, blonde hair. A comfort that made her feel like she wasn't going to go loony because he was here now, because the white no longer angered her because his arms were there to protect her.

"Grandad."

Stopping in his path to the furtherest part of the never-ending grand room, those silver eyes looked back into the deep brown of the girl's. "There are people that would like to meet you, Dem," Lucius Malfoy whispered to the child, a strange nostalgia filling his non-beating heart. "Remember to be polite and remain a Malfoy at all times."

Demi didn't know where she was going or why the white kept extending, but she knew that as long as her grandfather was there she was safe. She was cozy, almost as if she had been exhausted and she was finally getting the rest she needed. Like a headache slowly residing.

There were flashes of light crossing her mind, memories of glass shattering all around her, cries of pain somewhere echoing inside the walls of her thoughts. It was wretched, all those flashes and fragments of memory, so she hugged her grandfather tighter.

"It wasn't as painful as they make it seem," Lucius whispered, his gaze hardening as he sensed the tension from his youngest grandchild. "It's easier than falling asleep. Something you should know perfectly well. It's impossible to get you to rest."

Lifting her head away from Lucius' shoulder, Demetria's eyes widened as the white ended and a field of green started appearing and she saw other figures form.

"—Oi, let me look at her. I was here first." Shoving other people she didn't know, Demetria and Lucius came to a stop as a redhead marched his way to them. A giant grin on his face as he extended his arms out to her. "Come on now, I haven't all day."

Mister Malfoy scowled. "Insolent."

"And a true one at heart at that, Malfoy,” the redhead leered at the older man, taking his granddaughter from him and bouncing her in his arms. "Well, you look a bit like Granger,” the young man began, looking expectantly at the girl. "You've got the eyes, all pompous-looking and all. The hair too it seems, a massive curly mess."

"Fred." Frowning at the redhead, another man appeared next to Demi. "Be polite. She's a child."

Fred rolled his eyes. "She's just a baby, Remus. You swear like the little bugger can understand me."

"She's Hermione's daughter. Of course she can, Weasley." And just like all the sprouting people that were appearing and making Demi uncomfortable, wishing she was back in her grandfather's arms, a woman with bright pink hair took Demi. "Hello there, lovely."

"Can you begin to imagine, Dora,” the man Fred had identified as Remus spoke, smiling down at Demi as the woman did the same,"that our little Teddy has actually held this child in his arms?"

"Teddy's not little anymore, Remus,” the woman sighed, eyes sparkling with something Demi could not identify. "He's all grown up now."

"Yeah, and running his filthy hands on my niece, Tonks." Fred Weasley glared at the couple around Demi, arms crossing as they rolled their eyes at him. "I'd kick his arse if I was George."

"T-Ted." Looking at the couple profoundly and noticing the similarities that they shared with the Potters' adopted son, Demi smiled. (Finally, a familiar name.)

The woman exchanged a look with Remus, sharing a moment as the little girl looked at the blades of grass sway—the wind was blowing but she didn't feel it.

"Can't believe this is heaven," Fred spoke again, distracting the child as she registered the fact that the surroundings were unreal. "Never thought I'd be stuck with the two of you staring all sickly-sweet into each other’s eyes. I was perfectly fine with Uncle Fabian and Sirius. They understand me."

"This isn't heaven, Weasley," Lucius interjected, walking forward and taking his granddaughter back into his arms. "This is the intermediate of it."

"Clearly,” the redheaded man snorted. "If it was heaven, ol' Lucius, you wouldn't be here."

"He took the killing curse for Hermione, Fred. I'm sure Malfoy deserves to be in heaven for that. Giving up one’s life for someone else is a kind merit," Tonks defended her Aunt Narcissa's husband.

Lucius tensed up, feeling slightly revolted that the half-blood was sticking up for him. (What had death come to?)

Fred smirked. "Bet Draco must be thrilled for that, eh? He gets his dearly beloved for more years to come and his father doesn't end up sharing the darkness with Bellatrix Lestrange." He reached over and clapped Mister Malfoy on the back. "I'm sure Sirius will be thrilled to see you when you finally settle down in Heaven."

"—Oi, Malfoy, where are you going?"

Walking away from the small group that had assembled, Lucius turned to the direction he had arrived from. He carried his granddaughter tighter in his arms, trying to relive the last memory he had of her. The one before he died. "It's complicated and I won't waste my time explaining it all, Demetria,” he whispered in a blank-tone to the girl. "But just remember...death is peaceful."

She was two years-old, but Demetria Malfoy was not an idiot. She had learned to understand the things around her since her third month of life. She had learned how to make people understand what she wanted or what she was about without talking. It frustrated her parents because they knew she was already fully developed, but she decided to keep her knowledge to herself. It was the years when she got to be the little girl, the little sister, the youngest of the Malfoys and she wasn't about to ruin that by calling out for her parents. And with that understanding, Demi didn't need to know that Lucius wasn't going to be in the real world— whenever she found it again, that is.

"And although it is, Demetria," Lucius came to a stop, slowly pulling the child from his arms and putting her back onto the white floor he had found her on, “death is not what I want for you."

They stared at each other, the grandfather looking at the granddaughter with security, with the safety of his experience of the unknown.

"You stay here, understand?" he murmured hesitantly at the girl. "You're safe in the white until it's time."

Demi gave a nod, her blonde curls bouncing around her tiny shoulders.

An indifferent expression took over the blonde man's face, his facade of his human personality coming to play for a few seconds. "Remember the last thing I told you? The last time we both saw Malfoy Manor, before any of this happened?"

She nodded again, she remembered perfectly. It mixed in with the flashes of lights and the fragments of glass she last remembered seeing.

"Goodbye, sweetheart."

Demi squinted, a huge gust of fog came racing at her before she could even stretch her arms out for her grandfather. She just watched through the thick air as Lucius disappeared into it, only the echo of his last living words bouncing inside her head as she went back to being nothing. The white won again and she was left rigid and frozen.

'I won't be here forever, Dem Dem, but I'll always watch over you, ' Lucius had once said....

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Anything new, Dean?"

Looking away from the comatose baby wrapped in wires inside a glass crib, Dean Thomas stared into a pair of brown eyes. "No signs of movement or changes, I'm afraid, Hermione."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione Malfoy looked at her youngest child from the furthest end of the hospital room. Her heart ached at the immobility the tiny body had, the lack of energy and life in the little blonde girl. "Do you think she could hear us, Dean?" she asked, swallowing the knot of emotions in her throat. "I've...I've searched and studied a few similar cases from muggle children. Some doctors believe that a comatose patient can hear what's going on."

"It's not probable," Healer Thomas cleared his throat, looking down to his chart as he refused to stare at the fleeting faith in his old friend's eyes. "A doctor can't be certain of that. Patients have visions or dreams of things while they’re in their comatose state, believing that they’re real because they’ve been shut off from the world for ages. It's not certain, but being able to hear outside the unconscious state requires mental efforts...And Demi doesn't have those."

Refusing to believe that, Hermione noticed the door of the hospital room opening. A blond man walked inside, looking paler and more serious as the days progressed.

"Draco, you're late,” she said with a lack of anger she should have been feeling, but all she could see was the wires eating up her child.

"The Wizengamot had a private hearing for the break-in at Malfoy Manor," Draco replied to his wife, quickly sharing a polite handshake with the Healer and then stopping in front of Demetria's unconscious body.

"And?" Hermione asked with a bit of a shake in her palms, not paying attention to Dean as he walked out of the hospital room. "What was the verdict?"

Silver eyes gazed at the blonde girl inside the crib, the haunting image in his head that had taken over the memory of a cheerful baby pained him. Like the pale and lifeless state of his daughter was tormenting the walls inside of his tiring mind; like a reminder that they weren't as protected as the new world had promised.

"They decided to keep him alive,” Draco said in a hushed tone, a hesitant hand moving down to Demetria's forehead.

"Alive?" His wife gasped, shock appearing intensely in her hazel stare. "How can the Minister keep that man alive? He was involved in your father's murder! He is guilty for putting my daughter..." Hermione stopped, her shouting halted as her husband looked up at her with a hollow expression that had been handed down by every generation of Malfoys. "The death sentence wasn't common for these types of situations before, Draco, but the laws have changed. How can the Wizengamot accept this? It's murder!"

Moving his fingers away from the cold skin off his daughter's face, Malfoy tried to play out the plan he had developed on his way to the St. Mungos, the cards he was going to have to deal the Brightest Witch of the Age with when she knew about the decision the Ministry had taken. Of the lie he was going to have to feed her so she wouldn't know that they needed the culprit alive incase people started dying unexpectedly again.

"It feels like years, Hermione."

The brunette raised an eyebrow as her chest heaved up and down with fury. "What?"

Smiling dimly at Demi, Draco walked away from the crib and took steps closer to his wife at the end of the room. "It feels like years since I've been with you."

Hermione swallowed hesitantly, feeling slightly dazed at the soft words the man was saying to her.

"It's mostly my fault, I suppose," Draco continued, reaching the Gryffindor and taking her warm hands into his, those gray eyes piercing their way into the dark ones of his wife. "I'm sorry I've been neglecting you."

Her eyebrow rose higher, almost threatening to jump out of her skin. (This was not the way they worked. She was used to the shouting, the rude remarks, the old insults, and even the curses she would throw at him—not those whispering words that were making her tingle like she was seventeen again.) "I...I understand." Hermione cleared her throat, squeezing Malfoy's hands as they both stared into each other. "You have loads on your plate now, Draco, and I'm not one to interfere with your work. Besides, I spend most of my time locked up in here with Demi that I haven't really noticed."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"I mean, as long as you're in bed when the night comes and your arms are around me...You're there when I need you, Draco, and that's all that matters." A genuine smile appeared on Hermione's face. A radiant gesture that felt sincere whenever her husband was around. It was strange, but Hermione Granger couldn't live without Draco Malfoy in her years present, her days weren't the same now. She needed him. "I love you."

Exhaling, the graduated Slytherin wrapped his arms around the waist of the Gryffindor's. Reeling her in slowly as he never broke their connection, as he adjusted his body to handle the magnitude of devotion he felt for her. The same feeling that he had been experiencing for years, the same feeling he still didn't know how to fully comprehend—because she was magic, something entirely new and unknown to him and his old self.

"I love you too,” he breathed on top of her lips, the gray vanishing from the sight of the brown as he leaned forward and captured her mouth into a heavenly, familiar kiss.

                                                                                X

"—Get away from me!"

Crash.

"If you would only let me—Protego! If you would only let me explain!"

"—Explain what?"

Crash.

"It's not what it looks like, I swear it!"

"—Liar!"

Crash.

"I-It just happened!"

"—It just happened, did it?" With an arm raised high, a ceramic dish shaking by the tight grip it was being held by, Pansy Weasley halted her attack. "Are you telling me that I came home earlier than planned, thinking that you were at the Ministry because you said you were working until later, and I just happened to find you..."She trailed off, not finishing her shout as more anger seeped into her system.

Cowering behind the kitchen table of his home, Ron kept the Shielding Charm on him as he gaped at the dark-haired woman with the weapons. "I was weak, Pans...I didn't know what I was thinking, believe me! I tried but...I'm a man, understand that."

"You've hurt me, Weasley!" Pansy shouted, not moved by his quivering lip and the fear burning in his bright eyes. "And I am not going to forgive...or forget this. Ever!"

"I'm sorry, Pans," Ron mumbled miserably, pulling himself up to his feet as he kept his sad eyes on his wife. "I didn't mean to hurt you in this way...but I needed to. It's what I've wanted for weeks now, it's what I wanted and I don't regret it. I needed to feel alive."

The ex Slytherin witch glared for three more seconds, but one second extra of looking into those miserable eyes of the Weasel and her heart melted. And so she lowered her arm slowly. "I suppose I haven't made things easier for you,” she sighed, an eye-roll to accompany her irritation. "I've practically pushed you into this.”

Trying not to smile because he was going to survive this round, Ron breathed in easily. "I promise it'll never happen again, Pansy." He looked at her, their own special little stare igniting as he placed a round dish onto the table that was covered in fragments of ceramic. "I'll be better."

Flickering her eyes away for a moment, Pansy Weasley gritted her teeth as she saw a pile of crumbs inside the bowl. "Just...make up for what you did, Ron, and I'll let it go."

And this time, Ron smiled. "Twenty, was it?"

"Forty-five," Pansy tried not to hiss, practicing that deep inhaling Hermione had been teaching her since the first year of marriage between her and Ron. "Forty-five pumpkin pasties, love."

The redheaded man chuckled with an uncomfortable high-pitch. "Next time don't have the delivery owl from Honey Dukes leave the batch of sweets outside the door, Pans. You never know when I can stumble my way home earlier than expected."

Pansy grinned a little too forced. "I never expected my husband to eat a supply of sweets that should have lasted three weeks in one day, nonetheless one hour."

"Diets are really not my thing, Pansy," Ron shrugged, staring casually at his wife as she made her way towards him; casting spells to fix all the silverware she had broken in her rage when she apparated into the kitchen.(Oh, her face when she saw him swallowing those pasties like a troll left unfed.) "I prefer playing off the calories in Quidditch or sex."

The witch snorted. "You consider yourself so fortunate, Weasley—don't." She grunted when hands grabbed her by the hips, pulling her away from her cleaning path. "...I'm just trying to keep you healthy, Ron."

"I'm perfectly fine, never better,” the redhead grinned, his entire face lightening up with a glow that every freckle on his skin seemed to glow.

"Of course you are," Pansy rolled her eyes again. "Molly fed you constantly, but the woman wasn't a complete idiot when she was doing it. She kept you healthy, and that's what I'm trying to do. I'm not looking for you to get muscular like Krum—“ Her husband gave her a frown, but she ignored it as her eyes gleamed with evil satisfaction. "But, come on, Weasley. You're not off chasing Death Eaters and living an adventure with Potter anymore, you're growing older."

"Krum?" Ron scoffed, his frown still on his face as he ignored the important, rarely kind motive his wife had just reveled to him for her nagging. "You want me to look like Krum? He's a bloody pumpkin-head! You ask his wife whether she thinks that git is a good-enough husband like I am! So I might not have been an international Quidditch player, but I am quite the ruddy catch! He just—“

Silencing the ranting, pink-eared man, Pansy kissed her husband in a swift movement. She placed her arms on his tall shoulders, smiled into his mouth as he gripped her hips. Reminding her that when it came to Ron, she still had it.

"—Oh, Merlin, that's disgusting!"

Ripping their moving-mouths away from each other, the Weasleys glared as their lonely home was just suddenly invaded. "There's something called knocking, you know?"

"Is it that thing you don't do when you visit Godrics Hallow?" Snorting at her brother's retort, Ginny Potter pulled out a chair from the kitchen-table and smirked at the couple as she sat. "What's with all the dishes, Pansy, I thought we were just having tea?"

Standing in the back of Ron's kitchen with Harry and Draco, Hermione noticed the light blush that crawled onto her redheaded best friend's face. "Making Ron do house-hold duties, are you, Pansy? Brilliant. Show him that the man should cooperate as well."

Turning to raise an eyebrow at Hermione, Ginny laughed to herself. "'Mione, Pansy doesn't even do her chores. Someone else does it for her."

Pansy glared at her sister-in-law as Ron made his way towards the men at the end of the kitchen. "I'm a very busy person, Ginevra. I haven't the time to come and dust around here. Muggle-homes aren't going to decorate themselves, are they? That's why I have an assistant."

"Great career choice, Pansy." Listening to the statements of the women, Harry Potter pointed around the walls of Ron's home. "No one argues that, but I'm actually going to need Kreature back."

The dark-haired woman frowned further. "You are supposed to be the Chosen One, Potter. The friend of every little creature of the universe. You can't be using a house-elf as a...as a house-elf!"

The bespectacled wizard grinned mockingly, throwing a quick glance at his wife as she rolled her eyes. "Ginny has taken it upon herself to fix up Grimmauld Place and clean out every room thoroughly. And since you've had Kreature for the past two weeks, she finally managed to get inside Regulus' room without him blubbering."

"I've set a box out of his old master's belongings and I want Kreature to pick out what he wants so I could throw the rest of that rubbish out. I want Andromeda to feel at home once I'm done with that place." Stopping as her sister-in-law raised an infuriated eyebrow, Ginny tried to keep her own easily set-off irritation quiet. "Of course I'll need...erm...your expertise in decorating, Pansy."

"I've got to check my schedule, Ginny, but I'm sure I can squeeze you in," Pansy smirked, feeling smug.

"I don't understand though," Hermione interjected, stepping away from her husband as he talked Quidditch with Ron and Harry. (A conversation that she had grown used to over the years. It had been years since they were all enemies and Malfoy hadn't attempted to crush Harry in the open fields.) "Why is Andromeda finally deciding to move into Grimmauld Place? Did she have a fight with Molly?"

At the question Hermione had asked, Draco silenced his explanation of why Bulgaria's Keeper was an idiot and narrowed his eyes furiously. "...Why is my aunt moving into the Black house, Potter?" He hissed in a muted whisper.

"Andromeda thinks she’s getting in the way of mum and dad," Ron muttered, not giving his best friend a chance to reply. "Mum has tried to make Andromeda comfortable as possible, but blimey, Malfoy, the woman just wants to get out of the Burrow."

"Have I not explained to her the importance to keep her surrounded by people? She's in danger if she's on her own,” the blonde man snapped, his silver eyes flickering up to make sure his wife was busy with the other two women. "Potter, you could’ve done more than gladly given her Grimmauld Place."

Crack.

"—No, no!" Crash. "No!"

Interrupting the different discussions going on about Andromeda Tonks, a loud crashing sound exploded out in the living room of the Weasley home. The Aurors in the house pulled out their wands, moving silently towards the next room as they heard loud curses.

"—You let go of me, boy! You let go of me right now if you don't want me to hex off your manly-bits!"

"—Bollocks, you broke the lamp!" Looking aghast, Teddy Lupin held another man back with all his strength as he stared wide-eyed at the shattered lamp Pansy had gotten from her mother two years ago. "You broke the lamp! She's going to murder us!"

"I don't give a—"

"Teddy!" Lowering his wand, Harry Potter frowned at his blue-haired son. "What the hell is going on?" And as he got closer and eased into the anger radiating off the other man, the Chosen One also got a good whiff of something strong radiating off his son's clothes. "Have you been drinking?"

"He's been doing what?" Pushing past her brother, Ginny and Draco made their way closer to the broken lamp and the others. "You took my son drinking, Zabini?" The redheaded woman snarled, looking lethal as she inhaled the strong smell of Firewhiskey.

Noticing the fleeting comprehension in his friend's eyes, Draco leered at the dark-skinned man. "You're not going to be sleeping in bed tonight, mate. Best be finding somewhere to spend the night, because you are definitely not welcomed in any of our houses."

"You!" With strength that came from an angry, drunken man, Blaise Zabini managed to shove Teddy back and set himself free. "You sodding idiot, Malfoy!"

All in a very slow motion, the living room became a hectic mess: Ginny grabbed onto her stumbling son, Harry stood in front of his family; his wand extended forward, Ron's eyes widened in shock, Hermione gaped horror-stricken, and Pansy copied the brunette's expression.

Smack.

Turning his face back from the direction it had been moved to, Malfoy scowled dangerously at his best friend. "Did you just slap me, Blaise?" The man asked with a bit of mock and loads of anger as Potter casted a clear bubble between the two Slytherins. "If you're going to hit me, hit me right. Don't slap me like a little witch, mate."

"We are not mates, Malfoy!" Zabini yelled, his green eyes changing into a deep black as the liquor in his blood altered his mood. "How could you not tell me?! Why did I have to go finding out by Lupin?!"

"Oi, Ted! You told him about the trip to that muggle amusement park we took?" Ron asked, clucking his tongue disapprovingly at the young wizard. "We told you not to tell, Ted!" Sighing, the redhead looked at Blaise. "Sorry, Zabini, but you get too excited, mate. We wanted to have a bit of fun, not look after you. You're a danger to the muggles when you have their cotton-candy and ride their coasters."

But just as he noticed the drunken state Zabini was, Malfoy also saw the intense rage burning inside of the usually-happy man. He saw the way he stared at him as if he could murder him, as if Draco had betrayed him. "Let's get out of here, Blaise. We'll go to a pub, talk there. My treat."

"How can you not tell me, Draco?!" Blaise ignored the offer the blonde man had to give. "I trusted you. Trusted you to keep my family—What if that would have been me? What if that hadn't been Finnegan?"

"Zabini, just leave with Malfoy, alright?" Harry spoke, his tone of command finding its way into the scenario as he glared at his son, already figuring out what all of this was about. What Teddy had let slip in his rounds of Firewhiskey with Blaise. "This isn't the place."

"Not the place for what?" Hermione stepped forward, tired of trying to solve the reason of Blaise's anger in the back row. "What's going on?" No response entered the silent room. "Draco?"

And, again, nothing came. Instead the Head Auror removed the shielding charm away from the Slytherins and took a step to the side as Ginny walked to him, the same question glowing in her freckly face that their friend was asking.

"She doesn't know," Blaise stated, a humorless chuckle passing through his lips. "This doesn't make it better, Malfoy,” he retorted at the conflicted blonde man looking at the floor. “—They've been lying, those three. Mister Malfoy's death, Finnegan's, and plenty more have been covered up by the Ministry and made appeared to be something else. There's some demented lot out there...coming after anyone who has had any connection with that bloody organization you created in Hogwarts... D.A. members are being murdered, family members of Order of the Phoenix, and everyone mixed in with the light side."

Hermione's heart stopped, all her senses inside of her brilliant mind started clicking. Everything was making sense; she was adding it all up. She couldn't see it before, she was too focused with her comatose daughter that she never truly paid attention to the facts.

Draco looked up again, sensing the frozen state his wife had gone into, but instead he was met with the face of his best friend.

"...Blaise?" Pansy called, less shocked than the other two women.

"You were all so wickedly protected, right?" Zabini spoke gently, an undefined emotion ringing in his voice. "All Aurors, all mastered to handle all of this...Well, what about my wife? What about my children?"

"You're not a target, Blaise—"

"My wife had joined your bloody club, Potter,” the Slytherin interrupted the Boy-Who-Lived. "Don't tell me I wouldn't be affected." And with a crack that bounced off the walls, Blaise Zabini disappeared; only leaving behind his smell of liquor.

Making his way unnoticed by the rest, Teddy stood next to Ron as the room was still thick with silence and Pansy moved to fix her shattered lamp. "Fancy a Firewhiskey, Ron?"

Ron turned slightly, scowling at the blue-haired bloke. "You've just revealed secret information about an Auror case, Teddy. If Kingsley finds out, or whatever action the Head Auror decides to take from now on, your training program can be terminated. You'll end up selling Firewhiskey due to your big mouth. And I'd doubt Bill will let you near Victoire without a proper career."

Grimacing at the shove his mother had just given his father as he tried placing a palm on her shoulder and the frozen state the Malfoy couple was in, Teddy turned back to the redheaded man. "…You could have just said no."