Chapter 26

A/N: Canon characters are not mine and I make no money from this. Thanks and praise to beaweasley2, Clairvoyant, and nagandsev for their help and support in writing.

Well... Sabazios is dead... and now all they have to do is get away... simple, right?

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Chapter 26

Hermione Apparated Snape into a swirling mass of choking ash. The atmosphere was thick with it, making it hard to tell exactly what was around them. The noise was deafening, a rending roar that reverberated in her chest.

The ash and pumice stones from the volcano had formed a hot, thick blanket that covered the ground at her feet, and as Hermione stumbled forwards, trying to get her balance, she hissed in pain at the shock of the hot material on her bare legs.

Beside her, Severus slumped roughly into her side, and she wrapped her arms around him, trying to prop him up and keep him out of the ash while working out where on earth they were. He was barely conscious. The sky was almost completely dark, aside from the angry flashes of volcanic lightening from Vesuvius overhead. It was an eerie, frightening world that confused and disorientated her. In her rush to escape the Fiendfyre in the Temple, she had thought of his peristyle garden rather than the security of the underground bathroom or laboratory, remembering how she had sat in the garden so many times before. Idiot! she berated herself soundly and felt a wash of exhaustion slipping over her. Conjuring and controlling the Fiendfyre had taken a lot of her energy. She needed to rest, and she still wasn't entirely sure where they were – her surroundings looked so alien and hideous.

She spun around awkwardly, still bearing most of Severus' weight, and slowly, through the bitter fumes and swirling ash flakes, she began to make out the steps upwards to the summer dining room, the covered walkway towards the atrium at the front of the house, and on her left, the doorway leading downwards to his laboratory and bath chamber. She noted with relief that it was, indeed, Snape's house, but the garden was covered in a thick layer of the grey-white substance, the plants bowed down under its weight as they would have done had they been under snowfall. Above them, the roofs were close to buckling under the immense pressure of the fallen detritus from the volcano. Her mind spun with calculations. How long do we have? Can that roof hold out? She looked again at the staircase that led up to the summer dining room – the location of the portrait that would get them home. Her instinct was to get straight up there, ready to activate the portal to escape this world of destruction – but then she remembered the Pompeiians whom she had told to wait for her in the underground chambers of the house.

"Marcella!" she bellowed. "Conviva! Can you hear me?" She knew, as soon as she shouted, that her voice could not possibly carry through the maelstrom of the eruption.

Abruptly, the ground began to tremble violently, causing her to lose her footing entirely and stumble awkwardly to her knees with Snape still locked in her arms. Her breath caught in her throat – the volcano! Oh, Merlin! How long has it been erupting now? She tried to remember what Bernardo had told her all those months ago in modern Italy about the progression of the eruption. Panic seized her. How long would it take for the Plinian eruption column to collapse into the devastating series of pyroclastic flows which would devastate and bury the city, killing everything that remained behind? When did the pyroclastic flows begin? she thought to herself frantically. Not even the strongest Shield Charm could withstand the impact of a pyroclastic surge. The surges came at night, she remembered suddenly. But then, the account had been wrong so far – the eruption started earlier than everyone had thought. If I get out of this, she thought suddenly and absurdly, I'm writing an accurate account of the eruption! She cast a frantic look up at the sky, finding it impossible to tell whether the sky was dark due to the ash cloud and pumice fall, or for normal, natural reasons.

The ground was still shaking, and now she began to hear heavier sounds of impact as larger stones fell about her. She realised that she needed to get into the cover of the downstairs' rooms if they were going to survive. Belatedly, she cast a flickering Shield Charm over both of them, noting again that her magic was less assured than usual. How long had it been since she had eaten? The volcano bellowed and roared again. In her ears, the pitch was rising. Her heart was yammering in her chest, and she grew light-headed with panic. Was this a pyroclastic surge? She would never see it coming! To have come this far without survival was unthinkable. Could she get him to the portrait in the triclinium? Could they escape in time?

Then she thought again of the Pompeiians waiting, terrified, in Severus' bath chamber with its sturdy barrel-vaulted ceiling and the warded and protected walls, and she made her decision. Severus needed time to recover his senses. He needed food and water, and she had access to what remained of his medicinal potions in his laboratory....

"Can you stand up?" she shouted in Severus' ear above the clamour of the eruption. "We need to get undercover!"

She felt him nodding his head against her shoulder and struggling to stand upright, fighting his magical depletion and physical exhaustion. She sighed with relief but found her mouth full of bitter ash. Coughing and spitting out the sharp bits of dust and pulverised stone, she half-carried, half-dragged the shattered man towards the steps, their feet scuffing up clouds of hot grey cinders as they walked.

She paused at the top of the stairs heading downwards, steadying herself on the door jamb, and cast a quick evaluative look at him. Snape swayed on his feet and scowled at her, his hand still gripping her shoulder for support. There was no way he would safely make it down the steep steps on his own.

"Stand still!" she shouted to make herself heard, casting a wordless Mobilicorpus on him in order to float him down the stairs, thinking all the while that he'd never forgive her for this indignity.

**********************

Harry and Ron spun around as they heard the grinding sound of the stone gargoyle and the patter of quickly moving footsteps into the Headmaster's office. Filius was almost out of breath when he arrived at Hermione's bedside, and Helen Granger was moving with real authority by his side. Harry felt an immediate sense of relief washing over him, although his heart was still thumping hard in his chest.

"Ronald!" Helen's voice was taught, and her body filled with tension as she clasped Ron in a quick embrace. Harry saw his friend's face twist into a ghost of sorrow as Helen squeezed him tight, and he remembered that Hermione had left him and not the other way around. Unconsciously, he reached out for Ginny's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Ginny smiled sadly at her husband, acknowledging his emotions as she squeezed his hand back.

Letting go of Ron, Helen crouched by her daughter's bedside, worriedly looking at Hermione's pale face, running her hand over her forehead to check her temperature.

Harry saw Helen shoot a look at Poppy and cock an expressive eyebrow at the Healer. "What is the situation?" she asked, one medical professional to another.

Poppy's face was serious. "She seems to be fighting something internally. It's a sort of magical coma. She is relatively stable, although I am concerned that her energy is draining, and I cannot find the source of the drain. Of course," Poppy added, with a further arch look towards Harry, "I'm not happy that she was brought here in the first place."

Helen's lips pursed. "It was our decision," she countered, and Harry could tell that there was an edge of worry in her voice. "The doctor in the hospital appeared to have no idea what to do and gave her a poison." Helen shot a quick look at Harry, then returned her gaze to Hermione's still and wan face. "Harry had a good idea, and I think that you have just as good a chance of solving this riddle as any," she finished quietly. "You helped my daughter so many times before when she was a pupil here."

Harry blushed and looked away, feeling another sick pang of fear in his gut. It was his fault that Hermione was lying there, looking so pale and motionless in the dappled light of the late afternoon. "Septima thinks it's something to do with the runes around the portrait," he explained, glancing across at the Arithmancy mistress for confirmation.

Vector nodded warily, her hand frozen on the parchment calculations that she was making. She cleared her throat. "Yes," she agreed. "They are the key, I believe, but I need time. I've just gotta figure out how they function so we can activate them and bring her home. I thought I had it," she added, "but..." She spread her hands wide to indicate her frustration.

Helen nodded at Septima, but then turned to stare again at her daughter's face, and Harry saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped Hermione's hand harder. "She always was a fighter," Helen said. "Come on, love...."

"Where are the Aurors?" Ron asked Filius nervously as he flicked a quick look in the direction of the entrance to the office. "You were going to meet them, but...?"

Filius' face assumed a look of almost Dumbledorian innocence. "Ahh, yes, Mr Weasley. I am afraid that they have been rather diverted by the castle. It's the staircases, you see. Since the war ended, they really have taken on a life of their own. I am afraid that the two young gentlemen may be lost for some time...."

**********************

They laid him carefully back down on the same trestle table in the laboratory, pausing only for a moment to remove the broken metal shard of the caduceus that was still tucked into his belt. Snape was breathing shallowly, his eyes shut. By the time that Hermione had carefully made her way with the levitated man down the stone steps to the underground area of Snape's house, the earth tremors had abated, and the three Pompeiians had rushed out of the bathroom suite to greet them. They looked terrified and filthy, but Hermione had fallen into Marcella's arms in relief that they were still all alive.

With the heavy wooden door closed and warded shut, it was surprisingly quiet in the darkened room. The volcano could still be heard and felt, but it was more of a dull reverberation.

The magical sconces filled the room with their cool green light. Shadows played around them as they gathered about Severus' thin frame.

"Is he alright?" Marcella asked, reaching forward to cup Severus' cheek in her hand.

His eyelashes fluttered at her touch, and Hermione batted Marcella's hand away, feeling an irrational sense of jealousy at the softly intimate expression on the other woman's face.

She scowled. "Of course he's not 'alright'," she snapped sharply. "He fought Sabazios on his own, and it nearly killed him."

"He fought Sabazios?" Restitutus' eyes were wide with disbelief and respect. "What...?"

"We killed him," Hermione said flatly. She remembered her feelings of elation and triumph as she had wielded the Fiendfyre and destroyed the creature, and then her sick sense of guilt as the incantation had ended when her emotions had returned to normal. She placed her hand gently on Snape's chest, feeling it rise and fall as he drew in breaths. Her own heart seemed to contract in response to the heartbeat underneath her fingertips, and for the first time, she wondered at this odd sensation. Her hand fluttered to the place between her breasts where the Horcrux lay on its silver chain, and she grasped the little glass perfume phial.

Severus opened his eyes this time at her touch. She leaned over him.

"Stop fussing, woman," he managed to say in a whisper to Hermione. He swivelled his attention to the Pompeiians standing around his bed. "I'll be fine...." His eyes closed again, and he seemed to sag slightly against the pillow, still breathing.

At the frightened look on Marcella's face, Hermione softened her expression. "He's suffering from magical depletion," she explained. "The magic used up his normal energy reserves, and then it began to eat into his physical body." She ran her hand possessively once more over his chest. "That's why he looks so..."

"Lifeless?" Conviva supplied. Hermione twisted around to scowl at Severus' friend, but seeing Conviva's gaunt-eyed look of worry, she did not rebuke him.

"As he says, he'll be fine," Hermione said defensively. "He just needs to rest and eat and drink something." She slipped her hand under Snape's head and brought the rough goblet of water to his lips. Snape drank from her shaking hand and settled back on the cushions. He coughed weakly.

Hermione looked at Marcella. "Have we got any food left?" she asked.

Marcella shook her head. "I think we ate it all this morning, or last night...." She looked around at the pots and containers on the shelves. "Perhaps there is something here that we can eat...?"

Hermione nodded. "There might be something that we can use.... I can make a Strengthening Solution.... I think I saw some dried salamander blood somewhere...." She stood up and walked over to the shelving, looking for what she needed.

A loud exclamation of disgust caused her to spin around.

"I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion about nutrition, but what about the fucking mountain?" Restitutus voice was rough. "In case you have all forgotten, we are about to be buried alive! How can we get away, Hermione? Can't you just invoke that magic again and take us away from the city, far from the volcano? It doesn't matter how strong or weak Severus is, if we are all going to be buried alive by the wrath of Vulcan!"

"Restitutus..." Marcella began, but the rest of her words caught in her throat as she stared in horror over Hermione's shoulder into the darkness in the far reaches of the laboratory.

"I think that my friend Restitutus is right, dearest Marcella," said a slow drawling voice. "We are all looking for a way out of this predicament."

And Marcus Fiducius stepped out of the shadows, twirling Snape's wand in his long fingers.

*********************

"Abercrombie, will you stop fussing?" Justin Finch-Fletchley paused for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. They had been walking for almost an hour, along corridors that seemed to be interconnected in a sort of Möbius Strip that had sent them back to the beginning of their explorations just as they had been convinced that they had found their way to the Headmaster's office. Justin sighed, Escher. It was like being inside an Escher drawing. Directional spells seemed to have no effect within the charmed walls of the castle.

"We should call the Ministry for back-up," Abercrombie was saying as they stomped along yet another dusty corridor.

Finch-Fletchly laid a light hand on his younger colleague's arm and paused alongside a cobweb-covered suite of armour. "And become the laughing stock of the Auror Office? Defeated by a school building? I think not, Auror Abercrombie." There had to be a logical solution to the situation.

"The Headmaster's Office. Point me." Finch-Fletchley instructed his wand once more.

*********************

"I'm sure that you have a plan for getting away from here, Hermione." Fiducius' voice oozed urbane charm. "After all," he continued, "you were able to escape from our little play area beneath the mountain, my dear, were you not?"

Hermione instinctively moved in front of Snape, blocking his body from Fiducius' view. Her mind was clouded with fear and exhaustion. He has Severus' wand! Where did he get it? Can he use it? Her hand crept towards her own wand in the pocket of her tunica.

Fiducius came closer, more fully into the light of a nearby sconce, and Hermione gasped involuntarily.

The Aedile's features were ravaged, eyes hanging in a dead skin, bloodshot and bulbous. A thin dribble of silver potion glinted on his stubbled and filthy chin. His clothes were bloodstained and grimy with ash and dirt and ripped in places. He still moved with a sinuous grace, but his head twitched, and his hands were trembling.

Fiducius noticed Hermione's attention on the wand in his hands, and he smiled mirthlessly. "Oh, this?" he asked, tapping the wand tip lightly on his fingers and giggling at the small sparkle of magic that the birch wand produced. "One of my men brought it to me," he explained. "They found it in the Manticore's cell when they went to feed the creature. Of course, it killed and ate one of them as they retrieved it, but no matter...." Fiducius smiled again. "They were only slaves, after all...."

Hermione's hand ghosted over the handle of her own wand, and she readied herself to draw it and cast a non-verbal Disarming Charm. Fiducius grew closer to her, and she took an involuntary step backwards until her legs bumped up against the trestle bed. There was no sound or movement from Severus. Beside her, Marcella cringed and whimpered.

"Aedile," Restitutus held up his hands in supplication, trying to smile. "It is good to see you again, brother..."

"Don't presume to call me your equal, freedman!" the Aedile spat, gesturing with the wand in a slashing motion. A shot of yellow fire shot towards Restitutus, striking the side of his head. Restitutus cried out and fell to the floor, clutching his face.

Marcella screamed, shrinking back towards her husband, and Hermione moved quickly, pulling her wand out from her tunica – but Fiducius was faster. She found herself staring at the twitching tip of Snape's wand with her arm only half-raised.

"Drop it, witch," the Aedile spat, his eyes burning. "You are all mine now, and you will do as I please."

*********************

"The portrait's moved," Ginny said suddenly.

"Yeah." Ron's voice was surly. "She's back with him again."

Vector's head snapped up from her calculations. "Have the runes shifted?" she asked, picking up her sheaf of notes and moving closer to the mosaic.

Harry and Helen broke away from their quiet conversation about Robert and Luna's arrest and the likely outcome of it to see that the figures in the darkened picture were once more intertwined. Snape was on his knees, his head buried in Hermione's belly, while Hermione had her arms wrapped about his shoulders as if shielding him from something.

"Interesting...," said Filius, moving closer to the portrait.

"Very," agreed Vector, coming alongside him, her notes in her hand. She looked intently at the edges of the mosaic, then back to her notes once more.

"It's like she's protecting him," offered Ginny, squinting hard at the dark intertwined figures.

"Urgh," said Ron disparagingly.

*********************

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt the tip of Snape's wand dig in to the soft skin underneath her jaw.

Fiducius was close to her, as close as he had been when he had attacked her at the Vettii's party. He tucked her surrendered wand into his belt and patted it lightly with satisfaction. "Now that we have moved past the usual pleasantries, it is time to go, don't you think, Doctor Granger?" he asked.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in barely concealed distaste. She could smell him, the sickly stench of the potion mixed with sweat and urine. Her head twitched slightly as she stole a glance at Snape's still form. There was no sign of movement from him.

To their left, Restitutus moaned again, his hand still clutching his bloodied head as he rocked in pain on the floor.

With a snort of disgust, Fiducius turned his attention to Snape. Hermione watched his eyes roving over Severus' body, taking in the starved body, the paper-thin flesh marred by bruising, burns and other wounds. His tunica was filthy, ripped and torn in places, and like everyone else in the room, Snape was covered with a fine grey dust from the volcanic ash.

Hermione saw the glint of gold about Snape's neck at the same time as Fiducius. She started forward in alarm as Fiducius slowly used the wand tip to lift up the thin golden chain that held the ancient Time-Turner. At her reaction, Fiducius cocked his eyebrow and narrowed his eyes.

"I've seen this before," he said. "What is it, witch?"

"Don't..." Hermione held up her hand. "It's nothing. Just a-a... necklace... a silly talisman. Please..."

Fiducius sneered at her coldly. "Then, I think I'll keep it." With an abrupt motion, he snapped the chain around Snape's neck and held the Time-Turner up in the light from the sconces, watching the fused sands in the tiny glass vial as the Time-Turner twisted in the air. With another flourish, he tucked it into the pouch at his belt.

Restitutus whimpered again.

Fiducius spun around and gestured abruptly with the wand. "I tire of his snivelling. See to him," he ordered Marcella and Conviva curtly.

They stumbled to comply.

The wand was quickly replaced under Hermione's chin.

"After all," the Aedile added with another unpleasant smile, "it's only an ear...."

Hermione stared in dumb horror at the man before her as his words sank in to her mind.

"Well?" the Aedile asked. "I know that you have some sort of plan to escape, or you would never have come back here." He stepped closer. "I need you, little witch," he hissed. "You can brew my potion. You can maintain my powers. I can still feel the magic in my veins, curling through me, filling me up, completing me. I will not be without it. Where you go, I go."

The distant noise from the volcano and the vibration in the room seemed to alter a little as he spoke; the flames in the magical sconces burned a little brighter.

Hermione said nothing. She felt numb. For hours, it seemed that she had been running on adrenaline and nerve, and she was losing heart. She closed her eyes wretchedly. Behind her, Snape was silent and still, and she was desperately worried about him. Her hand moved blindly behind her to brush against his arm. His skin felt cool to the touch, and he did not respond. He's not dead, he's not dead! she thought to herself fiercely. She pushed herself to think more clearly, to adapt the hasty plan that she had formed in her mind when the eruption had begun and the Pompeiians had become trapped in the city without a hope of conventional escape. She felt the wand tip jab once more into the soft flesh of her neck, and she opened her eyes.

"I can get us out of here," she said, thinking quickly to formulate a plan. "But we can't go alone." She jerked her head a little in the direction of the huddled Pompeiians. "I need their help to do it."

Fiducius' lips curled back in a contemptuous snarl, but Hermione pressed on quickly. "I need their memories of their estate in Salernum. It is out of the volcano's reach. I can create an object that can allow us to travel there, away from the eruption, to safety. You said yourself that you have not travelled very widely – never far enough away from Pompeii. Your aunt's villa at Oplontis will soon be buried under the ash cloud too." She didn't mention that Oplontis had been abandoned, that no bodies had been found there, indicating that the people had had time to escape. She fixed Fiducius with what she hoped was her most sincere expression and waited.

Fiducius considered her words for a moment, his breath hot on her cheek. Then he nodded and stepped backwards. "Do it now," he ordered.

*********************

"They have shifted again," Vector confirmed. "Another signifier has entered the algorithm. I wonder..."

*********************

Hermione tried to settle her mind. Her recent experience of Legilimency with Severus would be helpful, she knew, but never since modifying her parents' memories back after the war had she invaded the minds of Muggles. Of the three wide-eyed and frantic Pompeiians, she knew that her best chance lay with Conviva, who seemed the most emotionally stable of the three. Heightened emotions would cloud Conviva's memories and make her task harder to perform. She needed him to remain calm for a little while longer.

"I need an object," she began. "Something that I can transform into a Portkey; one that is big enough for us all to touch. May I?" she asked, turning her back on Fiducius slowly to search for a suitable object.

Quickly, desperately, she searched Severus' face for any sign of consciousness. She allowed her fingers to brush, as if by accident, against his skin and her breath to fall on his chest to tell him that she was facing him. Nothing. She felt her spirits sag. Her hand rested on one of the small cushions on his bed to the left of his shoulder, and she grasped it.

However, just as she was about to turn away from Severus, she thought that she caught a slight movement of his right eyelid, as if he had cracked it open for a moment and then shut it again. The corner of his lip twitched.

He had winked at her. He had winked at her! That bloody man!

It took all her self-control not to react. Fiducius was behind her, and he was sure to kill Snape if he considered him a threat. Her heart began pumping wildly in her chest again, and she turned around to face the Aedile with renewed hope.

She took a deep breath. "I need my wand to cast the spell," she said evenly.

Fiducius looked at the pillow with scepticism and raised his stolen wand once again. "If you are playing a trick on me...," he began, the warning clear in his voice.

"No tricks," Hermione stated, her heart thumping erratically with the hope of it.
"Now I need to look into Conviva's memory to be able to weave the magic."

A few more seconds passed, during which time the noise form the volcano seemed to grow a little more insistent and intense. Eventually, Fiducius drew her wand out from his belt. He hefted it in his hand lightly but then offered it to her. At the same time he moved his own wand so that it pointed directly at Severus' face.

"Any tricks, and I will destroy him," he said calmly.

Hermione took the wand. "Stand still, Conviva," she said, her voice trembling with fear and adrenaline. Clearing her own mind, she stared into the wide and frightened eyes of the merchant. "Legilimens," she ordered softly.

Immediately, she was in Conviva's thoughts. She saw the lush fields and citrus trees that characterised the region. She saw a fine estate, the slaves bustling in the fields, the children playing on the dusty ground, running about carefree and happy. A few moments more, and his memories settled to a large umbrella pine, its twisted trunk standing tall and proud against a backdrop of sheer cliffs and the azure blue sea of the gulf of Salernum. Here was the place that she needed. It was isolated, as far as she could tell, and it was, therefore, more likely that they would arrive safely at their destination. Focusing all her attention on that image, Hermione touched the cushion in her hand with her wand and uttered the incantation, "Tempus Portus."

The cushion glowed blue for a moment, causing Conviva to start backwards in shock, breaking their connection. He rocked on his feet, blinking rapidly.

Hermione turned to Fiducius. "We all need to hold on to the cushion, and then when I tap it once more with the wand, it will activate," she said.

Fiducius' face broke into another predatory smile. He leaned forward to pluck the cushion from Hermione's fingers–

But it was just at that moment that the ceiling started to collapse.

*

For a moment, Hermione remained rooted to the spot as the plasterwork and brick that made up the barrel-vaulted roof of the laboratory started to fall. Suddenly, the swirling maelstrom of the eruption was howling and screaming around the laboratory, ash and heavy rocks were falling into the room around them. The building began to shake again, and Hermione realised that Snape must have released the wards that were shoring up the integrity of the walls and roofs of his property.

Why? What the fuck is he doing? her mind gibbered as more of the ceiling caved in at the far end of the room. The shelves on the walls began to disgorge their contents onto the floor, and the sound of shattering glass and breaking pottery added to the noise of falling masonry and volcanic rock.

Fiducius reacted quickly. He grabbed Hermione by the arm, pulling her physically away from Snape and wrenching her wand out of her hand. "Get out!" the Aedile bellowed as he herded everyone standing towards the wooden door of the laboratory.

Hermione tried to pull out of his grip, rearing backwards to try to stay with Snape.

"We've got to take him too!" she shouted. "He'll die if we don't move him!

Fiducius grabbed Hermione closer and levelled the stolen wand between her eyes. "Leave him!" he shouted above the noise of the tumult in the room. As she didn't move, he flicked the wand away and pointed it at Snape. "I owe him a painful death anyway. Leave him, or I'll finish him off now myself!"

"No!" Hermione screamed, trying to grab at the Aedile, but he roughly pushed her away from him towards the door. Restitutus, his head roughly bandaged with part of Marcella's stola, grabbed her and yanked the door open, pulling her through with him across the hallway. Hermione looked briefly up the stairway towards the courtyard and saw an orange glow and more ash pouring down the stairwell. The superheated rocks that Vesuvius was now sending forth were setting off fires among the wooden joists and balustrades of the buildings. Soon, there would be a firestorm like those that the Muggles endured during the bombing raids of World War II. All the oxygen in the atmosphere would be burned, and there would be no air left to breathe. As she faltered, Restitutus shouted something inaudible and bundled her in front of him into the bathroom.

"It's fine in here!" he shouted backwards at the others, who tumbled in behind them.

Hermione was sobbing, clutching the pillow to her chest, sprawled on the broken mosaic floor. Above them, there was a frightening rumble, and she realised that the upper layers of Snape's house were collapsing above them, just as the laboratory was being buried beneath tonnes of ash and superheated rock.

She knew that Snape, exhausted and depleted and without his wand to focus his magic, would be buried alive.