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Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14476 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You guys had some interesting thoughts on Vesper and her whole situation, and it makes me wish I could tell you everything that's going to happen! But I won't. You'll just have to find out in due time...
It has been one hell of a week IRL and I'm afraid I'm delivering a chapter that's a little shorter than usual. But alas, I just moved out of my house and into a new one while a bunch of other things were going on, and moving is damn stressful and discombobulating. So, I didn't write much. But I hope you enjoy it anyway. Please let me know what you think!
Chapter 14: Day Too Soon
(Draco)

Draco couldn’t stop staring at the dryness of his aunt’s lips. He kept licking his own in response, as if this could alleviate it, but, of course, it did nothing.
“You’re sure you don’t want some water, ‘Dromeda?” he asked her. “Or some juice, maybe?”
She clutched his hand and gave him a wan smile. “I know you want to help, my love. But really, I’m fine.”
“I worry that you’re dehydrated.”
“I am, probably,” she admitted, adjusting herself in the hospital bed. “But I just can’t stomach it right now.”
“Not even water?” Draco was fully aware that he was nagging, but he couldn’t let it go.
“Not even water,” she echoed. “It will be all right. I’ll try to drink some after.”
“You’ll be tired after,” he reminded her. She’d already done one round of Regeneration Charms a month ago, and she knew now how completely draining they were.
“Yes, but my potions will likely have settled a bit by then, and that means my nausea will have as well.”
Draco sighed but said nothing. He had to remember that Andromeda was the one going through this, not him, and she knew her own body and how she was feeling better than he could. Still, he was concerned about her hydration and nutrition both. She already looked much thinner now than she had been when she was diagnosed. That was to be expected, of course, but it still upset him. He didn’t like to think about how little she managed to eat and drink now that she was taking such a vicious regimen of potions. For her to truly improve, she needed to be strong, properly fed.
“Look at that mind of yours at work,” she said lovingly to him, reaching out and running fingers softly across his temple. “Worrying away, no doubt.”
“I can’t help it,” he told her, smiling softly.
“I know.”
The team of Healers came in then, signaling that the treatment would begin in just a few minutes. Andromeda took Draco’s hand again and clutched it tight, indicating that she was more nervous than she was letting on. She’d done this before, but it didn’t make the process any more pleasant, knowing what was coming,
The Regeneration Charms were so intense that they weren’t just hard on the patient; they were hard on the Healers as well. They required a lot of power and focus, as the chanting of the incantations had to be uninterrupted for many minutes at a time to be at all effective. Most Healers could only go for a few minutes before they were in need of a break, hence why the treatment required a whole team that could rotate who performed the charms and give everyone a chance to rest and recharge. Draco had never performed the charms on a real patient before, as it was magic above his current year, but he had heard tales of Healers going for too long without a break and losing consciousness. It was hard to imagine that a mere charm could be so draining on one’s magic.
All three members of the team nodded at Draco, acknowledging him. He recognized them all as fourth year residents working under Kipling’s service, and all, as far as he had heard, very good Healers.
“All right, Andromeda,” Healer Wofford, a slim, sandy-haired witch, said with a warm smile. “Are you ready to begin?”
Andromeda nodded and closed her eyes. Her hand squeezed Draco’s once, and he squeezed back.
Healer Wofford sat down next to the bed, pulled out her wand, and began tracing it through the air above Andromeda’s body in a series of circles and figure eights. Then she began the incantation, a rhythmic murmuring so soft it was almost inaudible. After a few seconds the silver magic of the charms began to seep out of the tip of her wand, swirling like glittery steam above a cauldron before starting to sink and be absorbed by Andromeda’s body.
At the first touch of magic through her thin hospital gown Draco heard Andromeda breathe deeply, and her grip on him loosened a little.
They remained silent for a few minutes, Wofford’s chanting the only sound in the room, until she signaled for replacement and another Healer, a tall and lanky black wizard with short, tight dreadlocks, took over. His chanting was deeper, but still soft, and mildly hypnotic.
“You know what I was thinking about the other day?” Andromeda said very quietly, turning her head towards Draco.
“What were you thinking about?” He leaned down to better hear her. The Healers didn’t mind if they talked during the procedure, so long as they kept it quiet so as not to disrupt the caster’s concentration.
“There was one summer, when you were very small, when your father was travelling quite a bit, and so your mother felt more free to come by for visits. You couldn’t have been older than four, I would say. I remember Dora was eleven, because she was about to go off to Hogwarts.”
“Well, we were seven years apart, so that sounds about right,” said Draco. “I would have just turned four.”
Andromeda nodded. “You probably don’t remember it, but your mum brought you around once every couple of weeks that summer. I remember you riding your little toy broom, and wanting to be read to from all of Dora’s old children’s books, and running around in the backyard.”
Draco thought back, straining to remember. Now that he thought about it, he had a few fuzzy memories of Andromeda’s old house, which had been small, cozy. He remembered wondering why they didn’t have any house elves, and why his cousin’s room was just one room, instead of a whole suite with a bedroom, bathroom, and playroom, like he had. He also remembered, vaguely, playing on the floor while his mother and Andromeda sat side by side on the sofa, talking in rushed but quiet murmurs.
“I remember a bit,” he said. “But only in flashes.”
Andromeda nodded slowly. “Well there was once, towards the end of the summer, when Dora was playing with you and showing off her Metamorphmagus abilities. You loved that, especially when she would make funny faces. You laughed and laughed…” She smiled wistfully. “But you were also a bit jealous. You wanted to be able to do what she could do. For whatever reason you were especially envious of the pink hair – she had already adopted that as her favorite, you see – and you begged her to turn your hair pink. But she told you she couldn’t, that she could only do it to herself. And so you decided you were going to do it to yourself too.”
Draco chuckled. “I don’t remember this at all.”
“Well, you were quite determined. So determined, in fact, that you actually accomplished it. It wasn’t the bright fuchsia color that Dora always wore but it was pink… more like a rose color, I suppose.”
Draco was laughing in earnest. “I must have been concentrating quite hard.”
“Oh, yes,” Andromeda agreed. “And your mother… well, at first she thought it was amusing, and she let you carry on with it that color hair for the rest of the afternoon. But then, when it was time for you to go home, you refused to change it back. You insisted that you wanted to have pink hair forever. She practically begged you, and you know Narcissa Malfoy never begs for anything.”
“Why didn’t she just wave her wand and change it back to normal?”
“She tried. It didn’t work. That’s how determined you were to have pink hair.” She smirked, but it faded quickly. “Your mother was very upset about it. I suppose she was worried that your father would see it and know that she’d been visiting me, somehow. Or at least have disapproved of the unnatural color.”
“She kept it a secret? The visits?”
“Yes. She had no choice. Your father…” She trailed off, eyeing Draco carefully.
“It’s all right, Aunt. I know better than most what a bastard he was.”
To his surprise, Andromeda gave him a look. “Now, now, Draco. Is that any way to speak about your own father?”
Draco shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
She considered that. “It’s oversimplifying it a bit, I think. Your father is a product of his environment and his upbringing. Abraxas Malfoy was…” She visibly shivered, and whether that was from the memory of Draco’s grandfather or the Regeneration Charms working away, Draco didn’t know. “He was a cold, cruel man. He had high standards and a short temper. My understanding was that he beat your father for any transgression or mistake, no matter how small, up until Lucius left for Hogwarts. By that point Lucius had learned to be exactly what his father expected him to be. Anything else was simply unthinkable.”
Draco absorbed that. He knew some of this already, at least that Abraxas had brought up Lucius in much the same way that Lucius had brought up Draco, but he hadn’t realized that there was violence involved. His mother had never told him that. He swallowed. “That’s upsetting to hear,” he said. “But still, it’s no excuse. He may have been less cruel to me than his father was to him, but he was still cruel, and cold. And he didn’t have to be. He could have chosen to raise me differently. He should have, considering he knew what that felt like. I’m certainly not going to treat my children like that, just because he did it to me. Because I have a choice.”
“Yes, but you’re also stronger than he is,” Andromeda said softly, reminding Draco to keep his voice low. Draco murmured an apology and leaned in close again. “You have determination, a will, that your father has never had. A will so strong that at four years old you were already choosing what you wanted to be, in spite of what others wanted or said was impossible. And look at you now; look at what you’ve done. With Voldemort in control of your family, living under your roof, you still managed to survive and keep your parents alive as well. And out of that you didn’t just keep surviving, you started living. You went back to Hogwarts to finish your education, even when you knew you might face social ridicule, you became a Healer, you reunited your family after years of separation, and you found someone to love, to build a life with, someone who no one would ever have expected you to choose. But you don’t care about that, about what other people say or expect. ‘To hell with them,’ you say. You do it anyway.”
Draco smiled at her softly. “You’re painting a very nice picture,” he said. “But you’re not accounting for the fact that a lot of that was just luck.”
“Perhaps surviving the war, to some extent,” she conceded. “But the rest, all that you’ve accomplished…”
“Finishing at Hogwarts, becoming a Healer, sure, but that was easy…” Andromeda raised an eyebrow. “I mean, not easy. It required work. But it wasn’t… complicated. I just did what I had to do.”
“And Harry?”
“Now that was luck.”
She laughed delicately. “I don’t think so.”
“You think he fell in love with me simply because I willed it to be so?”
“Again, dear nephew, you’re oversimplifying,” she said warmly. “It’s true that the right set of circumstances had to conspire to get you two together, but you also had to want it, or it never would have happened. And, more importantly, once you had him, you made sure to make it the best it could possibly be. You made sure to keep him.”
“Of course,” Draco replied, indignant, and had to remember to lower his voice again. “No one captures the heart of Harry bloody Potter and lets that slip away.”
“You didn’t. But you’re not just anybody.”
Draco sighed. “I can see we’re just going to have different perspectives on this.”
“I did have a point in saying all this you know, if you would quit arguing so much,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“Oh, yes? And what would that be?”
“Your father had, on the surface of things, everything that a man needs to be successful: money, prestige, charisma, intelligence… life should have been easy, comfortable. But he had no…” She paused, thinking. “No backbone. I don’t mean in a courage sense, just in a… he had nothing to hold him upright. He had no true sense of self, what made him who he was beyond his name and his money and his place in wizarding society. And that made him weak, flimsy, easy to sway. He bowed in whatever direction in the wind was blowing at any given time. That’s what made him cozy up to a wizard like Voldemort, to somehow be willing to put his family in danger, and for what? What did he think he would gain? The answer is lost on me.”
“He was pragmatic,” Draco said. “He went with what would best suit him at the time.”
“Exactly. But pure pragmatism like that, without principles, without somewhere to draw the line… He should have considered his family, his wife, his child. He should have considered what was right. But he didn’t. He did whatever would make his life easier, whatever meant the least amount of work.”
“You’re saying he was lazy.” For all her talk about how Draco shouldn’t say hateful things about his father, she sure was saying plenty about Lucius herself.
“I’m saying look where it got him. Twenty years in Azkaban. Never mind that the Dementors are gone and quality of life for prisoners is much better now. It’s still twenty years inside a cell, hardly ever seeing anyone besides the Aurors that guard him. He doesn’t get to enjoy all the things he thought made his life worth living: his money, his manor. His wife left him, his son hates him, his name is disgraced.”
“You’re talking to me like I don’t know this full well. That’s what I’m saying. I choose to be different.”
“Yes,” she said. “Exactly. You have, or are on your way to having, everything, that your father should have wanted, if he’d had any sense of healthy priorities at all. You have a beautiful, rich, meaningful life. And he has fifteen more years of nothingness. And to me, that’s quite sad. All I feel for Lucius at this point is pity.”
“You think that I should feel sorry for my father?”
“It would be a lot healthier than carrying around all the anger that you do. ” She rubbed his hand with hers soothingly. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be angry, I’m simply saying you have a choice. You could do it for yourself, if not for him. That sort of thing wears on a person, you know, over time.”
“I don’t carry around a lot of anger,” Draco said. “It’s more indifference than anything.”
She looked at him carefully, and Draco knew there was skepticism hidden in there somewhere. Still, he stared back at her, almost defiant.
“Only you can know what’s in your heart, Draco,” she said finally. “It’s just something to think about, is all.”
Draco nodded, momentarily wondering where all this was coming from. But it was only a moment before he remembered. Andromeda was behaving like a person with a terminal illness often behaves, because that was what she was. Draco was struck by the thought. He’d nearly forgotten why they were here in the first place.
“There’s going to be a lot of this, isn’t there?” he said with a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood, as well as his own sad thoughts. “You giving me sage advice that I didn’t ask for?”
She chuckled. “Yes, so get used to it. And tell Harry, too.”
Draco laughed as well. They slipped into a comfortable silence, Draco, for his part, letting himself become lulled by the soft chanting of the Healer beside them. Andromeda closed her eyes and seemed to drift, and Draco turned his head to look at the clock. Yes, it had been nearly half an hour already, meaning the first round of treatment for the day was about to come to a close. It was no wonder that Andromeda was growing tired.
Sure enough, only a minute later the chanting stopped, and Draco looked upon the haggard appearances of the three Healers.
“That’s round one,” Wofford said to him. “We’ll give her an hour to rest, then return for round two.”
Draco nodded, not pointing out to them that they needed the rest as much as Andromeda did, after all the magic they had expended. That was simply understood.
When they’d gone Draco continued to sit, watching as his Aunt slipped into a doze. He knew he would have to leave soon. He was on shift, actually, and had received special dispensation from Iwu for this precious half hour. But he would have to return to work, especially since Mila Gonzalez was coming in for her next appointment.
He squeezed Andromeda’s hand lightly and murmured her name until she stirred.
“I’m sorry,” he said, once he believed she was cognizant enough to understand him. “I have to go back to work. I wish I could stay, but I’m not allowed.”
It took her a moment, but Andromeda nodded. “That’s all right, love,” she said. “I know you’re a busy man.”
“Every spare minute I have, I’ll use to come check on you,” he promised. Andromeda would be in the hospital for a few days after the treatment was finished, simply because it was so hard on the body. Draco would have ample opportunity to see her again before his forty-eight hour shift was over.
Andromeda would have replied, he was sure, only she’d already drifted off again. He sighed a small sigh, squeezed her hand gently once more, and left the room.
It was time to return to work, and Draco could already feel his brain adjusting back into the mindset of Healer rather than Nephew. He had to have his wits about him for the appointment with Mila.
Hannah flagged him down on the way to the exam rooms.
“Have you had lunch yet?” she asked him. “I was about to go on my break. Care to join me?”
“I can’t,” Draco said, disappointed. “I’ve an appointment with a patient. An important one.”
Hannah pouted. “This has to stop, you know, all this missing each other. I feel like we haven’t talked properly in ages.”
“I know,” Draco agreed. “It’s because when I’m not here, I’m home helping Harry with Teddy.”
“Yes, of course,” said Hannah. “But we have to find time for drinks, we really do. The two of us, and Pansy as well. I have loads to tell you all and I need your advice.”
Draco had to admit his curiosity was piqued. “Well, you know how much I love to give advice,” he said, smirking. “And you know I want to hear all about it. But if it’s urgent perhaps you should go ahead and talk to Pansy at least. She’ll be easier to arrange something with than I am at the moment.”
“But I need the both of you or it won’t work,” Hannah argued. “You balance each other out and help me see both sides. She’s the cold pragmatist and you’re the hopeless romantic.”
Draco snorted. “Hopeless romantic? I hardly think so. I like to think I’m rather sensible and realistic. Not a romantic.”
Hannah grinned. “Perhaps in most things, yes. But when it comes to matters of the heart… well…”
“I see, so this has to do with Longbottom then.”
“Yes, it has.”
“Break up with him,” he said simply. She was probably better off without him anyway.
“Draco!” she admonished.
Draco smiled devilishly. “I think you’ll find that Pansy and I might be in agreement on this. So, no long discussion needed.”
“I disagree. You haven’t even heard my dilemma yet!”
“Yes, I know,” he said, placating her. “I’m only joking. We’ll make time soon.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
Draco checked his watch. “Bugger, I really do have to go. Sorry, Han.”
“It’s all right. I know better than anyone it’s this blasted job, don’t I?”
“And now I have a child,” Draco said.
“Yes, indeed. I don’t know how you do it.”
Draco smiled softly. “I have Harry.”
She grinned in return. “You see, there’s that romantic side I was talking about.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m leaving you now. No more talk of this romantic business, you understand?” He turned to go.
“Hopeless romantic!” Hannah called after him as he made his way down the hall, laughter in her voice. “Absolutely hopeless!”
Draco was fighting a smile as he approached the exam rooms, and he had to pause a moment to put a more professional expression on his face. He knocked twice and then entered to find that Mila was not alone. There was a Mediwitch as well, who was taking Mila’s vitals, performing charms to determine her temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure. Madam Lorenz was there was well, sitting in a chair in the corner and watching the procedures impassively.
“Good afternoon,” Draco told the room.
“Good afternoon, Healer Malfoy,” Lorenz replied, nodding to him. “I hope you are well.”
“Very well, thank you.” He turned to Mila, who was hunched over a bit as usual on the exam table, staring at her shoes. “And how are you, Mila?” he asked her.
She glanced up at him. “Fine.”
“Any nausea? Or has it gotten better?”
“Some,” she said. “But it’s not that bad.”
“She only becomes truly ill around certain foods,” Lorenz chimed in. “Doesn’t like the smell.”
“That’s very common,” Draco said.
“But she is eating,” Lorenz informed him. “I’ve seen to it myself. And the we’ve been following the potion regimen exactly.”
“Excellent,” said Draco. He knew Lorenz could be counted on for that sort of thing. And Mila certainly looked better, healthier, than she had the last time he saw her. She was no longer stick-thin, but rather just very petite. There was more color in her face and even her long, wavy brown hair seemed shinier. That meant the nutrient potions were working.
“I’m just finishing up, Healer Malfoy,” the Mediwitch told him. She was one of his favorites, in fact: efficient and competent, but also with a knack for putting her patients at ease. She handed him the chart with the results of the charms already recorded. He was pleased to see that Mila had gained over half a stone since he’d last seen her. This was definitely progress.
“Thank you, Haversham,” he said to the Mediwitch.
“I’ll just be at the MediStation if you need anything,” she told him. “Good to see you again, Mila.”
Mila smiled and thanked her, which, for her, was quite a compliment. Draco reminded himself to request Kim Haversham as the Mediwitch to assist with all of Mila’s exams. The more comfortable his patient felt, the better. He turned his attention back to the young woman in front of him.
“This looks quite promising, Mila,” he told her. “I can tell you’ve been following my instructions. But let’s check on the baby, shall we? We can do our first scan today.”
Mila nodded, lying down and lifting her shirt to expose her stomach. Draco glanced briefly at Lorenz, wondering if Mila would be more comfortable without her there. But, as the girl had said nothing, and seemed to mostly be ignoring the woman, Draco left it alone and instead pulled out his wand to cast the necessary charms.
The first charm was to try and find the fetal heartbeat. It was a tricky one, because the fetus was still so small at that point and the charm required a certain amount of accuracy. So Draco was quite pleased when he got it on the first try.
“There it is,” Draco said as the rhythmic, otherworldly sound filled the room, magnified by the charm. “That’s your baby’s heart beating.”
“It's fast,” Mila noted.
“Yes, it is. It’s supposed to be faster than yours or mine, although I will say this heart rate is a bit on the high side as it is.” Draco considered silently what could be causing it, whether it had something to do with Mila’s wayward magic, or if it was simply that Mila was under stress and this was carrying over to the child. He would have to ask Iwu’s advice, see what she thought. “Next let’s see if we can get a picture.”
He hovered his wand over Mila’s abdomen, concentrating. A projection appeared suddenly in the air in front of them, showing the internal scan of Mila’s uterus. The picture wasn’t great, of course, and neither Mila nor Lorenz would likely know what they were looking at. Luckily reading pregnancy scans was another thing he had been practicing.
“Let’s see here…” he said, gliding his wand across her navel. “Ah, there it is.” He pointed to the small, bean-shaped presence there among the black and white fuzz of the image. “That’s your baby. See, there, you can actually make out his or her little arms.” He pointed to them. Like with the heartbeat charm, the scan magnified the image, making the fetus appear larger and easier to see than it actually was. “And…” he went on, adjusting his wand a little, “there’s one of the legs.”
He turned to look at Mila to see that she was staring at the image with wide eyes. Draco didn’t know if she was frightened, shocked, or simply overcome with emotion. With any other patient, he might have asked, but she was different. She only ever shared what she was absolutely sure she wanted to share. So instead he remained silent, letting the young woman absorb what was in front of her.
A child. Did she really understand it, he wondered, that she was growing a new life?
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Mila asked hoarsely after a few minutes.
“Mila, dear, it’s too early to know that sort of thing. The baby is too small,” Lorenz told the girl. Draco glanced back at her, having nearly forgotten she was there.
“Actually,” he said, “while we can’t tell the gender just by looking, we do have a charm now that can tell us. It’s effective as early as eight weeks, and since we’re well past that mark now, it should work.” He looked down at Mila. “Would you like to know the sex?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
Draco released the charm on his wand and the picture faded. He then placed the tip of his wand lightly against the skin of Mila’s navel, approximately where he guessed the fetus to be, based on the scan. “Genus Ostendo,” he said softly. A white glow appeared under the surface of her skin, in the shape of the fig-sized fetus below. Then the light turned green, holding for a moment before slowly fading.
“It’s a boy,” he said.
The room was silent for a moment, absorbing that.
“Well, a boy,” said Lorenz, her voice taking on an optimistic tone. “That’s exciting, isn’t it?”
But Mila didn’t respond. She was staring her at stomach, her face oddly pinched, and one finger stroking cautiously over the place where the green light had just been glowing.
“Mila, darling?” Lorenz asked, coming closer. “Didn’t you hear?”
Mila flinched and closed her eyes.
“Perhaps we should give her a moment,” said Draco. “In fact, would you mind very much just waiting outside?”
Lorenz stilled and looked at him for a second or two, and Draco wondered if she was about to get offended. But instead she simply nodded, patted one of Mila’s arms lightly, and turned to go.
They were alone, and Mila still hadn’t opened her eyes.
“It’s all right,” Draco said gently to her. “If you need some time alone, I can wait outside as well. There’s no hurry. You can take all the time-“
But Mila grabbed his wrist. “You can stay,” she said.
“All right.” Draco sat in the stool next to the exam table and waited. Perhaps she wanted to talk. He could be patient.
But instead she rested her head against the back of the exam table and stared at the ceiling, her eyes glistening in the harsh light of the room. She blinked a few times, very rapidly, and then her face wilted like a flower, and she was crying in earnest. It was quiet; she hardly made a sound at all beyond a few squeaks. But she was shaking with the force of it.
Draco wondered why learning the gender specifically had triggered this. Was she disappointed? Did she not want a boy?
But then she tilted her head up towards the ceiling again and whispered, more for herself than for him, “It’s real. It’s really real.”
“Yes, Mila,” Draco said, reaching for her hand. She took it, clasping his fingers tightly. “It is.”
Up Next: Hermione takes matters into her own hands.
SickPuppy: I’m with you. Personally I think Dempsey got what he deserved, but unfortunately it’s the Auror Corps and Vesper has to be more level-headed than that. More on that later.
You make a good point about Fantastic Beasts. I honestly was just making up my own interpretation, how I think it would be in modern times here in the States. We certainly have a social hierarchy, there’s no denying, but it’s less concerned with lineage in many cases, mostly because we’re not that old a country and we’re mainly made up of or descended from immigrants. I imagined that might carry over to the idea of blood status as well. However, Vesper did gloss over some key things, like how American society is still very starkly divided by racial/regional lines in many ways. I had thought maybe wizarding culture in the States might be similar in that regard. Food for thought indeed.
LadyShire: Thank you, as always, for your wonderfully kind words. Vesper is a bit of a surprise, isn’t she? She’s been surprising me a lot as well. I will say, though, that your hope for her and Blaise is not necessarily in vain. We’ve still got a ways to go :)
Book_addict_89: Yeah I agree. Ron did what he had to do because of the setting they were in. If it were outside in the real world, he probably would have helped Vesper hex Dempsey to bits :) I’m glad you’re invested enough in Vesper that you don’t want anything bad to happen at least! It means I’m doing my job.
I work with kids too! My students are older than Teddy, more the Hogwarts age range, but I’ve spent a lot of time around young kids too. They are just the best. Naïve and still learning, but they also tell it like it is.
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