Dianna was more than impressed with herself. Well, her work-self, anyway. Her home self was a complete and utter disaster and now she was staying over at her brother’s flat with his rich quidditch playing roommate whom Dianna was just so embarrassed to be around, but was able to make him do whatever she wished----anyway. She was very proud that her music exhibit was so popular, and she was even prouder that the head curators were already asking her for ideas for future endeavors.

Sigh. See, she could control something in her life. Her therapist said that was very important, something she could control, but not control too much and---therapy talk did not make her happy. Dianna wanted to be happy, and she linked her fingers behind her back and watched Felix Ackerly take in the Hobgoblin exhibit.

“From their first concert,” she chirped, even though he’d probably read the signs and labels on the instruments. “The band they were opening for didn’t show because of some freak magic carpet accident, and well...the rest is history.”

Dianna watched his face, his very cute, very very cute face, for the ‘wow’ factor that usually showed up on their visitors when they saw the---get this, the notebook that Kirby Catchlove scribbled their first #1 hit in.