Albus approached Severus once the students had safely left Hogwarts for the Express. Most of the professors had disbursed as they were wont to do, anxious to get on with their free time. 

Severus, though, was just enjoying the knowledge that no one had died this year.

That, so far, he would not have to make a decision regarding Thomas.

A decision that would be much harder now, almost seventeen years later, than when he and Hermione had first talked about what they would have to do if the Chamber had been opened. It had seemed like such an easy thought at the time. Easy in the sense that he knew what stopping him now would mean for the future.

He honestly never thought it would come to this.

Truly loving the boy.

Having a family.

Having a stable and good life.

Being able to provide for that family. Hermione worked, not because she had to. He couldn’t imagine her not being busy or not using her mind. She continued to help out anywhere required at Hogwarts, that included Defense Against the Dark Arts and dueling. Proving to people that she was more than just a bookworm librarian.

Hagrid was quietly released as a student instead of being falsely accused of being a murderer. And publicly humiliated. Severus had to tell Albus about the Acromantula, knowing that the other wizard would help him come up with a plan to treat the half-giant fairly, and he had. He would never have to leave Hogwarts, just transition to the groundskeeper position at the end of this school year.

No one would know he’d done anything wrong, not even the headmaster.

That had been hugely important to Hermione, so Severus had seen to it that it was done tactfully. In truth, Severus had a fondness for Hagrid himself. The half giant did not deserve the reputation he’d lived with for years. Severus had told Albus he needed to be watched, though, as he had a tender heart that wanted to aid all creatures. Even those he should not have.

“Another year draws to a close,” Albus said.

Severus nodded simply. What was he supposed to say to that? It was obviously so.

“Thomas seems on his way to making everyone in the magical world remember him.”

Severus’ eyes snapped up to meet the older wizard’s. Had he missed something? Had something happened that he and Hermione missed? No, he didn’t think so. They wouldn’t both miss something.

“Relax, Severus,” Albus chuckled here. It wasn’t the jolly chuckle he usually gave. It was one that betrayed the fact he realized his words had startled Severus. “I meant his schoolwork. His grades. Surely you realize he’s on the verge of getting Outstandings in every OWL he chose to sit this year? Including your class, I presume.”

“He does have a mind that few can rival,” Severus said, releasing a breath in relief.

And, yes, Thomas was on his way to getting an Outstanding in Potions. Most expected that, though, given Severus was his father.

Thomas Prins hadn’t done anything wrong. He was going to be remembered from his time at Hogwarts for his mind and only that.

“And no one seems suspicious that he is a Parselmouth. I assume that was so before?”

“It was, and no. I’ve heard of no fallback from that ability being known.”

Albus nodded here. Surely, the wizard knew that was true. He was just seeking confirmation from Severus his observations were accurate. “You and your wife have both been rather … tense this year, and that seems to have lifted the past month or so. Am I to surmise a hurdle has been overcome?”

Albus knew full well that their … tenseness was about more than the muggle World War.

They, as it happened, had taken in four muggleborn children two years ago now who had suffered the loss of both parents because of that war. No one else had wanted to take them in together. Severus never thought he’d see the day the majority of the ten spare bedrooms in their home would be in use. Seventeen years ago he hadn’t imagined more than two extras: one for him and one for Thomas being used because he certainly hadn’t foreseen sharing a bed with Hermione to beget more than Thomas.

“You could say that, Albus,” Severus said.

“As my … issue is still up in the air, that gives me immense satisfaction. It seems I chose well for whatever errand I sent you here to do then.”

“Us, too,” Severus said simply. “I would agree that you did. You know that I cannot say more than that, Albus,” he added with a shake of his head. He was surprised, honestly, the old man hadn’t tried endlessly. Perhaps his mind being on Grindelwald curbed his nosiness.

“I know, Erik.”

“Thank you for not pushing.”

“Is it tempting?”

Severus shrugged. He could admit that it was.

It was tempting. Absolutely.

In ways, he missed Albus, the confidante. The friend. He hadn’t found anyone to take his place. Except Hermione. They were friends now, yes, but it was different. He would never burden her with all of his sins. Albus, the other one, had known it all. This Albus knew Severus had information that he was curious about. “You were my friend…”

“I like to think that I still am.”

“You are,” he said with a nod. “That is not how I meant it. Our relationship is very different this go around. I am still, however, committed to the warnings he - you - gave me seventeen years ago.”

“As you should be. I sense that today brought you relief, but not an end to your concerns. So we are fine and understand each other. He would be proud of you, I’m sure, because I am. Immensely. You were stoic, bitter, and cynical when you first came to me. I didn’t need to know you well to see that. I could tell that you were not convinced my idea would work. You’re still stoic and cynical, but that bitterness has been shed. And in its place I see happiness, contentment. Love.”

“You would not be wrong. This … project has helped me as much as it seems to have helped Thomas. I can’t help but wonder if that wasn’t his - your - intention all along.”

“Excellent. Deservedly so. I say that from observing you, of course, but also knowing that it takes a very strong man to raise a child under such circumstances no differently than your others. And I see that you are doing just that. I also hear positive things from the Harrison children that you have agreed to foster. That you stepped up and declared they should be kept together spoke volumes to many of the type of man, and father, you are. That other version of me knew what he was doing. I obviously thought so then as much as I do now. He would be proud of the job you’ve done.”

“Thank you,” he said, realizing he’d needed to hear that.

Even if it was this Albus and he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure the other Albus had ever told him that.

And meant it.

He’d said it over the years, but there had always been a ‘but’ afterward.

I’m proud of you but you need to let this happen.

I’m proud of you but you must protect the son of the wizard I allowed to bully and embarrass you.

I’m proud of you but you need to get over being upset that I allowed Sirius Black to escape.

Of course, Severus thought this hair brained scheme of his to send him back to the past with Hermione Granger had been another one of those things.

I’m proud of you but you need to do this, no matter how unsuitable you think she is for this.

Severus had been wrong, Albus had been right.

He could admit that.

He was happier now than he could possibly see himself being if he’d stayed in his original timeline. On his original path.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“You already said that.”

“I know, I’m saying it again. You did me a favour. You gave me this life.”

“You’ve said that before when talking about your home, Erik. I will tell you the same thing I have before. I did no such thing. You made this life, Erik. I am pleased, even if I don’t know why it came to be, that it has turned out better than you hoped. I didn’t give you anything.”

“Still, thank you. It’s because of you.”

“You are welcome. And one day, when you can, I do look forward to hearing the story.”

“I will gladly share it with you if I’m able to.”

“Steps were taken toward that being possible? I assume this year was of some import.”

“They have been, and it was rather important, yes.”

“Fabulous,” he said, the wizard’s eyes twinkled much the way Severus remembered seeing them when he’d been an eleven year old boy.

He’d been so excited to get out of his house and away from his parents, to go to this magical place that his mother had talked about rather fondly. (And his mother rarely spoke of anything about her childhood fondly.). Before he’d done whatever he’d done to disappoint this man, or to make him think he was worth less than a Potter or a Black.

He was happy at the moment. He’d focus on that, Albus happy, and quit fretting on what Albus had allowed to happen and done nothing about in a timeline that hopefully would no longer exist.

“Are you all going to meet Thomas, Cole, and Jackson today?”

“Yes,” Severus said.

They always did.

It was important to Hermione, and Severus too, that their son and foster sons knew that they were missed and welcomed back home. It didn’t matter that they saw them every day otherwise. They were coming home for the summer the same as every other Hogwarts student, and they felt it was important to treat them that way. It was new for Cole and Jackson, but they were welcomed home, too.

“Miss Zonnger will be joining us for a portion of the summer and I believe a few of Thomas’ roommates will be coming for a week or two as well. Cole and Jackson’s will be as well.”

“My. You will have a very full and busy house then?”

“Yes,” Severus said with a slight scowl. Albus saw it and chuckled. It was part of that stoicism and cynicism he’d spoken about earlier.

He still wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Hermione had insisted that this was another good sign.

Theirs was the house that other kids wanted to hang out at in the timeline of her childhood. Thomas wanted to share his home, his family, with his friends. Thomas wasn’t ashamed that four muggleborn children shared his home with him. He invited his roommates to stay, knowing Cole and Jackson’s might be there at the same time. That was a huge step. Miss Zonnger’s bedroom would be near Charlotte's, not Thomas’. All, especially the Zonnger’s, were aware of that.

“Good, well, enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You as well,” Severus said, heading back into the castle. He did have one thing he was looking forward to. Albus headed in a different direction, probably to see to Hagrid’s situation.

He made his way back to his rooms where young Charlotte, who was no longer that young and would in fact start at Hogwarts in a year, Philip, and Graham were waiting. Two of their foster children were on the Express back to London. The other two were outside doing boy things if Severus had to guess.

Philip ran up to him immediately upon seeing him, wrapping his arms around Severus’ thighs.

“Can we go get Thomas, Cole, and Jackson now?” Philip asked. His dark eyes were looking at him pleadingly.

At less than a month shy of seven, he didn’t quite grasp how long the train ride was, or why Thomas, Cole, and Jackson had to ride the train at all when they - their family - were right here. Why couldn’t they just go from their dorm to their rooms here in the dungeons?

“Soon, young man,” he said. “Where is your mother?”

“In here,” she called from Philip and Graham’s bedroom.

Philip and Graham now had the room Thomas and Philip had shared. Benedict and Randall shared one as well. That left Charlotte with her own room. There was an extra room in case Thomas, Cole, or Jackson ever did to spend a night in their quarters here at Hogwarts. It was as if Hogwarts knew they might not quite be done with them yet.

Thomas no longer required a room in their quarters at Hogwarts. He tended to stay in the dorm over breaks even if he did come to their rooms during the day. Cole and Jackson did the same, perhaps taking their cue from Thomas. Charlotte had always had her own, though Philip slept in Charlotte’s room more than once when Graham was a newborn.

“Just making sure everything’s done for the summer.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod as he watched her from the doorway.

They could come and go from here via the floo if anything was forgotten, but she did not like to leave the house elves any messes if she could avoid it.

Where Thomas and Charlotte were both quite meticulous, Philip tended to be a little … messier. Graham at four and a half was still a bit of both. Their four fosters were more meticulous than not, probably for fear Hermione and Severus would return them or something if they weren’t. They were definitely boys, though, and liked messes.

Philip was also very interested in music and art. At seven he could already draw very well. Severus was no expert by any means, but he knew what Thomas and Charlotte had been able to draw at varying ages and that Philip was … better. Thomas was not artistically inclined. He wasn’t sure if that was the difference in the meticulousness factor, but it was interesting to observe the differences. Particularly in Charlotte and Philip.

Thomas and Charlotte, though, could ride a horse like nobody’s business, where Philip was able to ride more than just capably but was still scared to allow the horse to go at more than a slow canter. He’d had to admit the first time he’d bought Charlotte a riding habit, he’d felt very much like Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind with “Bonnie Blue” Butler.

A film they’d gone to see upon its release just a few years ago. They both enjoyed being a small part of history for things like it and The Wizard of Oz , even if it wasn’t a movie that was normally one Severus would say he wished to see. Hermione’s mum was evidently a fan, and had watched it with her as a girl. She wanted to go, so he went.

Simple as that.

He enjoyed pampering his only daughter with pretty dresses, in part because the economy as it was for many years he couldn’t do it for Hermione as he might have liked. He still could, he supposed, but she wasn’t really the frilly dresses kind of witch. And she did not like to purposely stand out. Fancy riding habits weren’t really warranted either when she rode usually to tour the grounds or to and from areas she was working on any given day. She wasn’t the type that wanted baubles either. Oh, he’d added to her jewelry collection over the years with various necklaces and bracelets, but she was a pretty down to earth witch who really didn’t accessorize.

His wanting to spoil her was what led to his … gift for her today. (He could admit it was really more for him than her, but he suspected she’d like it, too.)

“When you are through I have a surprise for you in our chamber.”

“For me?” she asked, her head popping up from where she’d been looking under Philip’s bed. As if Philip at nearly seven wasn’t capable of looking under his own bed for forgotten items.

“No, my other wife.”

“Oh, well, your other wife told me that she doesn’t want your gifts but this wife will certainly take it.”

“Excellent. It is my lucky day indeed then.”

“Well, lead the way then, Wizard.”

“Done so soon?”

She shrugged as she stood. “This bedroom isn’t that big.”

“Maybe we should switch them next year?” he asked.

Charlotte’s room was a little larger than this one as well as the one Benedict and Randall shared for whatever reason. Severus had never been able to determine why. The room housing two children should, in theory, be larger. Hogwarts knew best, though, so he didn’t question it. And it was clear Charlotte’s room was for her.

“No, that’s not fair either.”

“Well, Charlotte is older.”

“Yes, but then Tom will think we’re giving away his room to his little sister!”

“Marie,” he said with a shake of his head. “He is not going to use it again!”

“He might!”

He chuckled with another shake of his head. She had a point, he supposed. He had no idea what Thomas’ goals were after Hogwarts. They hadn’t really broached that subject, for fear there wouldn’t be a future post-Hogwarts. He, admittedly, had been pretty focused on the 1942-43 school year and getting through that. He had this summer to talk about such things with him. Now that he’d completed his OWLs, it would be a good segue into his future and what classes he might like to continue to take in his sixth and seventh years.

“Daddy has something to show Mummy before we head home, so we’ll be a few minutes. Don’t make any messes!” he said, glancing at Charlotte and then Philip and finally Graham. “In fact, why don’t you go find Benedict and Randall and tell them we are almost ready to go home. We’ll send a patronus when we’re ready.” All three nodded and went off in search of their foster brothers. At ten, Charlotte was really too old for Daddy, but it was a habit after all of these years. In truth, he wasn’t sure he was ready for her to get to the point that he was just Dad. Soon it would happen.

He closed the door behind them as they entered their room and waved his hand so she could see the floor length green (with silver lace, of course) negligee on their bed.

“Erik?” she gasped, running a fingertip over it. She might not need baubles and finery, but she recognized quality when she saw it.

“I’m not sure if I or the maker was more embarrassed when I described what I wanted.”

“Really?” she asked.

The length was fine. The decollete, though, was daringly low (she was more than adequately endowed to pull it off) and the top was completely sheer from chest to hips.

“Really,” he drawled.

“Do you want me to try it on now?”

“That was the general idea behind my sending the children outside and telling them we’d send a patronus when ready, yes,” he said, using his wand to help her out of the clothes she was currently wearing.

“Are we trying for that second daughter then?”

“If you are amenable to such a thing, yes.”

“Mm, I see how your mind works. Pretty lingerie in exchange for …”

“We don’t have to.” She knew she didn’t.

“Turn around,” she said.

He did as she asked, his heart thudding in anticipation because he knew, even though he’d said what he wanted the negligee to look like, that he would be brought to his knees when he actually saw her wearing it. She had that effect on him. He was pretty sure he’d done a decent job of hiding that fact for the most part, but she could literally arouse him with just a look from across a room.

“You can turn around now,” she said.

He did, slowly.

It was exactly as he’d envisioned. The silver of the lace running along the top of each breast before the sheer fabric dipped daringly low, well below her breasts so the edges of them peeked out from the fabric enticingly. He bit his lower lip, groaning softly because just as he envisioned he could see the top of her mons through the sheer fabric, a teasing glimpse of her body there.

“Turn around,” he whispered and she did without question.

He loved that about her. He stepped up behind her, shedding his clothes as he went. He set his hands at her hips, feeling the silky-feeling material beneath his fingertips. He started pushing the skirt of it up and then swore under his breath.

“Problems?” she quipped.

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he said, waving his hand so she was now naked. He took her hands in his, kissing her shoulder blade as he guided her to place them against the wall.

“Well, I only wore it for…”

“Am I casting the charm?” he asked, knowing he sounded incredibly impatient but he had been thinking of her in the negligee for days now. (A distraction from thinking about what Thomas had not done this year.) It was every bit as sexy on her as he’d envisioned.

“No,” she murmured.

That was the last thing either of them said for a little while.

They ended up on the floor with him still behind her and once they’d both come down she turned onto her back so she could face him.

“I think we both needed that,” she whispered.

“Me, too.”

They’d had sex during the year, of course. It wasn’t that. They were relieved. One known event had changed. A release of, really when it got down to it, over seventeen years of tension. A variable they could finally look at to see if they were making progress or not.

The Chamber of Secrets hadn’t been opened.

The witch they’d been focused on this school year had survived. The date of Myrtle’s death had come and gone. She’d finished the school year and gotten on the train to go home. Parents didn’t have to mourn the loss of their child.

These were the first known obstacles they’d faced. Physical, tangible proof that what they were doing was working.

They made a difference.

They’d both been stressed all year, waiting and watching for something. Any hint of the rumour of a skirmish set them on edge. It had never happened. The words they’d been dreading had never come.

Myrtle was not dead.

A girl they knew to have died left here to contribute something to wizarding society. What that would be neither knew, as she’d never gotten the chance. And given her earned moniker of Moaning Myrtle, no one went out of their way to engage her in conversation as to what her dreams had once been. That seemed a little tactless and unkind, too.

“You’ll wear it for me tonight?”

“Will I get to wear it for more than a minute?”

“There’s that insolence again. I face potential ridicule to surprise you with something incredibly sexy and I get cheek.” He leaned down, kissing her before nipping at her shoulder. “And if you must know, it looked so good on you I was afraid I’d tear it to get at you.”

“I have an older one you can do that to later if you’re still feeling all possessive.”

“Mm, really? You’d let me do that?”

“If you were really in the mood to do that, sure. I don’t want you to do it just to ruin a nightgown, but if the mood struck you…”

“I think you underestimate how much you turn me on.”

“Back at you, Baby,” she quipped, leaning in to kiss him.

“Speaking of, shall I cast the charm?”

“I answered you.”

“Yes, but…”

“I was of sound mind when I answered.” She ran a finger along the side of his nose and his cheek. “This is it, though.”

“I understand. You weren’t even eighteen when Thomas…”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure he would want anymore, with or without the Harrisons in the picture. He did like being a father. He did like seeing that his children were growing up differently than he had. That he was able to go to a baseball game with the kids and tell them about a previously attended baseball game. Things that were fond memories to him, but weren’t something he’d ever had until coming back to 1926 with this witch.

He did thoroughly enjoy making them with her, but - again - he knew she’d given up such a potentially bright future not to have a dozen children with him. Her purpose was to save one child.

“It has nothing to do with regret or anything like that, Erik. I don’t think Albus, that Albus, would tell you we couldn’t have one or ten children of our own. He wouldn’t have done that, made the demand that Thomas be it. I don’t know him, that him I mean, but I just can’t see him thinking we’d never have our own. So, I mean, yes, I guess you’re right that I started young, so I’d rather be done young. I realize we’ll never be done, but you know what I mean. I just don’t want to have no life! I’d like to do some things with you - just you - while we’re still young enough to enjoy them.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t want to stay here forever,” she said.

They’d discussed whether he would endeavour to retire from Hogwarts before 1971 and move on to the apothecary he’d talked about when they came here initially. He wasn’t sure if he could teach himself, given his difficulties.

They hadn’t had that particular conversation for years. Things were different. He couldn’t say he was making any headway with his mum, that she’d treat child Severus any better than she had originally.

However, as this first hurdle had been cleared. Well, Severus was wondering about the idea of him leaving Hogwarts. He’d never liked being a teacher before. He’d been forced into it by both Voldemort and Albus. He hated children, and the political climate of the eighties fresh off the Potter murders and Voldemort’s apparent defeat was difficult to say the least. He had to pretend not to mourn for his friend, which he was fairly confident now led to his not being able to analyze and compartmentalize his feelings for the witch. Well, that and Albus’ constant reminder of why he had agreed to be his whipping boy.

He was coming to wonder, though, as he noticed the little things he spotted in students he took the time to give encouragement or a gentle correction to. Well, he made a difference. He heard whispered utterances in the dungeons that he was a favoured professor. That they looked forward to his class. He was most certainly no ones boggart. Something, until his time here in the past, he’d never heard about him.

So. That led him to wonder.

If there was no Voldemort and there was no war, perhaps things with Potter and Black would be … different, too. He could admit that he was … tempted, to be sure, to see for himself if there were differences. And just what those might be if there were any.

“And I do like making them with you,” she said with a soft laugh, breaking him out of his contemplation.

“Clearly, I do as well, but yes I agree this would be it. And if it does not happen within the next few months we will stop trying.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, STS.”

“Love you more, HG.”

She smiled. “Now let me up so I can get presentable for the children we already do have.”

“That’ll be a story to tell if it did take, wouldn’t it?” he said, settling a hand against her abdomen.

“I will never tell them and I forbid you from doing so.”

“Hmm, forbid?”

He arched a brow at her, grazing her abdomen with his thumb. He vowed to enjoy every moment he could in the process of this last child. He’d never paid pregnant women any attention prior to Hermione being pregnant with Charlotte. He loved her pregnant with his child. That she was willing to one more time floored him. He really would enjoy two daughters.

“Children do not need to know when or how they were conceived!”

“Well, I wouldn’t tell them now.”

She laughed with a shake of her head.

“And you always look presentable.”

“My hair,” she said, reaching for it.

“Is its usual gloriously unruly self.”

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t like when he called her hair unruly. He didn’t mean it as an insult, and she seemed to know that. It was unruly. And glorious. “Thanks, I think.”

He stood then, finding his clothes and putting them back on. He turned to see her still sitting on the floor, watching him. Rather intently, as if she was … memorizing him. It was enough to make him want to remove his clothes once more and try for that child again right now.

“Yes?”

“I like watching you,” she whispered and then she smiled with a bit of a blush. “You like that.”

Of course he did. Very much, not just from a physical standpoint either. She had never once made an issue over his scars, or anything about his physical body. He knew many witches wouldn’t be so blase about them, visible to others or not. They were proof he’d been a bad man, walked a dark path, and only Lily pulled him back from that path. Too late, of course. He’d wondered more than once what might have been different if he’d heeded her warnings while they were students at Hogwarts.

He had known better, though, of course.

“How can you tell?”

“Your eyes.”

He rolled said eyes. He should find it unsettling that she was able to read him as well as she could, but he didn’t. He liked it. He liked that he’d allowed her in to the point that she could. Seventeen years ago he never would have believed it possible.

“I like watching you do lots of things, Erik. In fact,” she said, getting a glimmer in her eyes that made him think he was in for something fun, whatever she was about to say. “I think there’s some wood that needs to be chopped at the house.”

She wanted him to chop wood? He’d certainly done that, and then some, over the years. It was actually a good way to let out some aggression once in a while. Good professor or not this go around, there were still students who were dunderheads. What was he missing?

“Thomas is perfectly capable of doing that. Cole and Jackson could help. Benedict probably could, too. Not to mention Thomas, Cole, and Jackson’s friends when they are at the house. I imagine they’ll get us a good start on our supply for winter.”

“You’re right, he is. So are the other boys. Their roommates would be, too. I’m grateful that we’ve taught him - all of them - that hard work isn’t a bad thing, that he shouldn’t expect things like milk and eggs and the wood to have fires with to just be handed to him. I do not, however, like watching Thomas, Cole, Jackson, Benedict, or any other man for that matter flex their muscles and get sweaty chopping wood, Erik.”

“Oh,” he said, knowing he was blushing at the implication. Imagine seventeen years into this and she could still bring that reaction out of him. “Do I get you in the pond then?”

“The back one?”

He thought about that. The kids were too old these days for them to use the one closest to the house. Old enough, though, that they could disappear for a while and not be searched for. Their kids (even the fosters), fortunately, seemed to understand if their parents went off on their own for a while there was a reason for it. He assumed Thomas had figured out what that reason was within the past year or so.

“Workable.” As if he cared which pond she preferred.

“Then yes.”

“Then I will chop all the firewood you can dream of, my witch.”

“Great.”

“Don’t forget your gift.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving it here.”

“Afraid a house elf will find it and realize you are a very sexy and progressive witch?”

She snorted. “Yes, that is exactly it. Did the seamstress give you any problems, by the way?”

“No, actually, she might have told me to inform her of both of our responses.”

“Did she now?”

“Yes.”

“And will you?”

“I shall endeavour to ensure other men are as pleased as I was in the finished product going forward, yes.”

“Lucky wives, but I’m the luckiest.”

November 1999

You heard it here first, gentle readers. One of the hottest commodities, the winner of the TriWizard Tournament four years ago is officially off the market. Cedric Diggory and Ginevra Weasley have made their engagement official. The couple are planning for a wedding in 2001 around their quidditch playing schedules. Evidently this means Miss Weasley’s unhealthy infatuation with Blaise Zabini is well and truly behind her. Keep your eye on this column for details as they become available.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com