Work has gotten a bit easier as my coworkers have been browbeaten into properly collecting and entering data. Unfortunately, it reaches over 100F/38C out there. I prefer this type of work but I miss sitting in a nice, air conditioned office most of the time and it isn't just because I get more writing done. I hope you like this chapter. I must've rewrote it a hundred times.




Harry woke well before Snape arrived to serve him breakfast. His torso had been bandaged sometime during the night and he didn't like how the bindings confined his movements. He found the edges and yanked them free, unwrapping himself carefully. As soon as he had stripped off all the bandages, he tested his range of motion delicately, stretching out on his bed. He felt perfectly fine and wondered if the painkiller Snape had given him was still in his system. Whippings normally left him quite sore, but he didn't feel mentally fuzzy like he normally did when under the potion’s influence.

He hoped he'd be able to train for a full session today. The events of the previous evening left him wanting to do some form of hard training where he could lose himself and pour out his anger. He tried to read, but his mind didn't want to focus, so he sat on the floor and continued to stretch as he waited for Snape.

The Potions Master finally entered in a cloud of black, quickly stepping through the bars and spelling breakfast on the table. "Get dressed."

It was an order Harry never expected to hear. "Are we going somewhere?" he asked as he stepped over to his bed and retrieved his clothing from under his mattress.

"There won't be any visitors today," Snape commented as he sat down and conjured tea for himself. He seemed unconcerned that Harry had removed the bandages.

Harry nodded and took his seat after he had finished dressing. He tore into his breakfast hungrily, stuffing the sausages down his throat before asking, "How come I don't hurt?"

"I invented a spell that causes excruciating pain yet fades fairly quickly. You should be completely free of its effects by now," Snape explained.

"That's neat." Harry was dying to learn how to invent spells. He planned on hounding Snape for lessons once his magic was restored to him. "You don't have to make it very painful, you know. I can always fake it, I'm good at that."

Snape didn't say anything in response. He sipped his tea casually, his eyes on Harry's plate.

Harry dug into his omelette. "Have you learned anything new?"

"Of course I have," scoffed Snape. "What do you imagine I do during my spare moments of free time?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you learned anything new about the Hallows or the Horcruxes?"

"I have currently set plans in motion in order to obtain ownership of the Elder Wand, should it still be in young Malfoy's possession. His parents have agreed to allow him to visit for weekly tutoring."

"Brilliant." Harry grinned at him. "D'you think you could train both of us at the same time?"

"Don't be stupid," Snape answered dismissively. "He's-"

"I don't mean it like that. You could have him cast spells on me."

"I knew what you meant, and don't interrupt," Snape said sharply. "As I've told you countless times, it is better you remain away from the other Death Eaters, even relatively harmless ones such as Draco. Can't you eat without spilling food everywhere?"

"It's very difficult to eat omelettes with a spoon," Harry informed him through gritted teeth.

"I'm sure even a simpleton like you could manage to figure it out if you actually tried."

Harry wanted to mouth back to the git or punch him in his huge nose again, but he suspected Snape wanted him to lose his temper. He forced his anger down and focused on his meal, determined to show Snape he was in control of his emotions. He finished his breakfast and Snape waited impatiently by the bars while Harry rushed through his morning routine. The Potions Master strode out of the cell and Harry hurried after him.

"Why did you use Muffliato on me last night?"

"The Dark Lord would have expected it. Besides, it would be best for you to not overhear comments about yourself. You might lose your temper." Snape led him into the practice room which once again contained its normal collection of furniture.

"Look, just because I lose my temper around you doesn't mean I'll lose it around them," Harry insisted as he watched Snape spell the balls. "Didn't you see how well I performed last night?"

Snape's back was towards Harry as he waved his wand and the balls started flying around the walls of the room. "I did," he answered tersely. "But you still need work." He flicked his wand, and the attack began.

Harry twisted out of the way of three of the balls and began to weave around the room. Snape spelled anywhere from three to eight balls to attack him at once and it was quite a challenging exercise. Harry was determined to prove his mastery of any task Snape gave him, so he pushed himself as hard as he could, dodging and evading as if his life depended on it. He had become quite adept at avoiding the projectiles by the time he needed to stop for a break.

"I need to rest or else my lungs are going to hurt," he informed the other wizard as he sat down and five balls quickly smacked into him. Snape stopped the exercise immediately and put down the book he was reading.

"Do you need any painkillers?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "Not right now." He tugged on his shirt to fan himself. Even though he had put on antiperspirant that morning, he felt very sweaty. He was used to practising without any clothes and he found that now he didn't like them much. If he had something tight to wear over his crotch, then he might prefer it, but his pyjama bottoms were loose and only got in the way. He stripped off his shirt and was about to remove his bottoms when Snape spoke up.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked in a rough tone.

"I'm all sweaty," Harry complained. "I've got used to training naked and I prefer it now."

"Put your shirt back on," Snape ordered sharply. "It's foolish of you to assume that you will be nude for the final battle."

"I wasn't assuming that," Harry protested. "I can dodge in clothes fine, I just hate feeling sweaty."

"You will wear them and that's final," insisted Snape with a glare.

Harry had been trying to ignore Snape's nasty remarks and dirty looks all morning but at that comment his patience ended and the urge to attack Snape suddenly flooded through him. Instead, he dug his fingers into the carpet to stop himself from hitting the other wizard. "You know….you don't have to try to train me to control my temper all the time. I'm actually quite good at it when I need to be."

"If you are rested, you should return to your training." Snape flicked his wand and the balls began their dance about the room once more.

Harry resolutely stood and began to practise. He poured out his anger at Snape into his training, so by the time the Potions Master stopped the exercise for lunch; Harry knew his legs would hurt if he continued the lessons.

"My muscles are sore," he informed Snape when the wizard stepped back into the room, floating a lunch tray behind him. "I don't think I'll be able to do a second session."

"Then you will aim," Snape said simply.

Harry dug into his steak and kidney pie with relish. "If you do manage to take ownership of the Elder Wand from Draco, are you going to transfer it to me? What happens if Voldemort gets the Wand but you have control of it? Should we try to take it from him?"

"That will depend on the circumstances in which we approach the final battle," answered Snape. "I will decide closer to the final event."

Harry frowned. "You don't know what we're going to do, do you?"

"Of course I do," Snape retorted in a curt voice. "It would be incredibly stupid to develop a single plan and expect the Dark Lord to conform to it. I have devised several different plans to account for the actions the Dark Lord is most likely to carry out."

"And once the final Horcrux is found and destroyed, you'll pick the one you want to use?" Harry guessed.

"Precisely." Snape nodded.

Harry was dying to hear the details of the plans but he knew Snape wouldn't have changed his opinion about Harry's control since yesterday. If anything, today he seemed more irritable than ever.

"What were you and the other Death Eaters talking about at the party last night?" Harry asked. "What are they planning?"

"That's not your concern," Snape informed him firmly.

"I think it is my concern," Harry answered sharply, his anger rising although he hid it as best he could. "Especially since you said they were talking about me."

"I'm sure even you have the ability to imagine what sorts of comments were being passed around," Snape sneered.

Harry thought of the Death Eater who called him a slag while forcing Harry to suck him off. He could imagine what they'd said just fine. He stared at his mostly finished plate. "So … does that mean Voldemort thinks I'm broken?"

"I don't believe so. He didn't bring Nagini with him, which suggests to me that he still retains doubts about you," Snape pointed out.

"We'll just have to come up with more ways to try to convince him then," Harry said confidently. "I can take anything now. The only way they can really hurt me is by going after my friends."

"Finish your meal and return to your training." Snape stood and sent away the empty dishes before he left the practice room.

Harry frowned as he watched the older wizard leave. Why was Snape in such a foul mood? Harry suspected the dinner party hadn't gone as planned. He didn't understand why Snape was so reluctant to share details of what went on among the Death Eaters with him. Harry had the feeling he was being kept in the dark as much as possible and only told the bare minimum of what he needed to know. While he had been fairly hot tempered before, he thought he'd improved dramatically and could now be trusted with more knowledge of the plans. It infuriated him how little Snape told him. This was his life and possibly his death. To face Voldemort in battle would be the most important thing he'd ever do in his entire life and he needed to know as much as possible about the circumstances surrounding his future. He could think of no reason for Snape to continue to hide information from him other than lack of trust.

Harry knew he'd proven his self control, time and time again in the throne room. What more did Snape want from him? What else could he do to convince Snape he wasn't brash and reckless anymore? Harry did admit he'd probably always be a bit hot-headed and doubted he'd ever be as unreadable as Snape was most of the time. However, he thought he was a pretty good Occlumens, even if he didn't Occlude his mind the way Snape taught him. Hiding behind his walls worked well for him and Snape admitted he didn't have any idea how he managed to Occlude without using magic. Didn't that imply that Harry could possibly be an Occlumens to rival Snape if he did it entirely without magic?


Snape returned with the laser pointer and tossed it to Harry, who deftly shot up his free hand and caught it. Snape spelled away the chain from Harry's cuff before setting up the training room for aiming practice.

Harry was determined to get some straight answers from Snape; however, he knew this wasn't the time to press the issue. He'd wait until Snape was in a better mood and then he'd lay out his argument logically so the other wizard couldn't refuse him. He remembered Snape once argued that since Harry kept secrets from him, he could keep secrets from Harry. In order to help quicken their progress together, Harry'd given up his secrets, but Snape hadn't done the same. It wasn't right and Harry was determined to balance the scales.

He began aiming as soon as Snape returned to his seat to read. His skill at this task had greatly improved and he grew bored after a few hours. "Is there some other form of training I could do that doesn't involve running around? Or maybe I could take a painkiller and go back to dodging…. D'you have any potions which would help my muscles heal quickly?"

"None that will work instantaneously," Snape answered. "The potion I normally give you after practice is fairly effective and should return you to normalcy in an hour or two."

"Okay, I'm finished for now. Can we resume-"

"May we."

"May we resume after dinner? You could go brew or something if you wanted to." Harry stood.

"Follow me." Snape stood and lead Harry back down to his cell. Harry stripped and stepped into the shower while Snape floated Harry's clothing out of the bathroom and left for the laundry room. Harry was tempted to follow him and demand a look inside, but he didn't want to press minor issues until after he had a successful bid for the most important one.

Harry took a long relaxing shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water cascading over him. He began to harden as he cleaned his penis. His thoughts took an uninvited turn back towards the memory of the night before and he released his dick, ashamed of what had happened to him. No. He wasn't going to let them get to him. He'd always enjoyed wanking in the showers at Hogwarts and there wasn't any reason he shouldn't enjoy it here. If he stopped pleasuring himself because of what they did to him, then he was letting them win.

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and began to slowly stroke himself, concentrating on his pleasure. Maybe he would get sex tonight. He might even be able to make Snape give him head. He leaned back against the wall, one hand fondling his balls, while the other slid up and down his cock. He teased the head with his thumb, flickering over the delicate gland until he was biting his lip.

He closed his eyes and circled his fingers as he began to wank himself, using his foreskin to prolong the sensation. He imagined Ginny had joined him in the shower and was rubbing him off. The water would stream down over her breasts and over her thighs. She'd smile at him and say, 'Let me help you with that, Harry' and then she'd-

"Potter-" Snape stepped into the room.

Harry's eyes snapped open, his hand frozen mid-stroke, startled by the sudden appearance of the other wizard. Snape stood stock-still as he stared back at Harry before he quickly turned and left, his robes billowing out behind him like sails.

"Hurry it up!" Snape demanded as he disappeared from view.

Harry quickly wanked himself to completion, biting back a moan as he came, spilling his seed all over his hand. Feeling a lot more relaxed, he hurriedly rinsed and turned off the shower. He dried and then spread the towel on the rug to rub in the muscle potion. Snape hadn't returned to the room by the time he finished with the parts he could reach, so he grabbed the bottle in one hand and his towel in the other, and stepped out to search for Snape.

He found the other wizard in the cell, refitting Harry's bed with clean sheets. Harry's clothes were folded neatly on the table.

"Can you put the muscle potion on my back?" Harry asked him as he stepped over to the bedside.

Snape glanced at him. "Turn around."

Harry did so and held the potion to the side. Snape briskly stepped forward and snatched the vial from his fingers. He drizzled the potion on Harry's back and very clinically rubbed the potion into Harry's back, touching him as little as possible. Normally he was sure to massage the lotion into the young wizard's entire back, even parts Harry could reach himself such as his shoulders and the small of his back. This time, he only rubbed it into the areas Harry couldn't reach himself and touched him as little as possible the entire time. Snape left with the vial once he finished.

"I will return to bring you dinner." He strode off, not giving Harry a second glance.

Harry frowned as he watched the other wizard leave. Snape was definitely acting strange. Was he embarrassed over having walked in while he was wanking off? No… throughout the entire day he had been rude and distant. Before, Snape often touched him casually or engaged in friendly conversation. Now Snape seemed determined to avoid him.

Harry laid the towel on the floor and stretched until the potion kicked in and he could exercise without causing himself pain. He had the feeling something had changed, but he wasn't sure what. Did it have to do with their fight the previous day? They both said a lot of hurtful things to each other and Snape seemed the type to hold onto grudges. Harry stood and walked over to the bars. If they were to work together, then they needed to get along. He banged his cuffs against the bars, waiting five seconds between each deep clang.

"POTTER!" Snape bellowed as he stormed through the library door half a minute later. "What do you think you're doing?"

Harry stepped back. He certainly hadn't expected that reaction; Snape was furious. "I was summoning you. You said yourself that no one would arrive today."

"Are you dying?"

Harry frowned. "No."

"Then be quiet!" Snape turned to leave.

"I hurt my arm," Harry lied, determined to make him stay.

Snape paused and turned back to him, his eyes narrowed. "You did, did you?"

"Yes, here." He held up his right arm and pointed to his elbow with his left hand. "While exercising."

Snape's eyebrows drew in towards each other and Harry was sure the wizard knew he was lying. "Take this." Snape reached into his robes and pulled out the normal painkiller, tossing it to Harry.

He uncorked the vial and dropped a drip on his tongue before handing it back to Snape. "Thanks."

"Be more careful," Snape spat. "And put some clothes on." He strode off quickly.

Harry stared after him. Snape had changed completely since yesterday. Yes, he'd been a bastard the day before, but he had also been very careful to make sure Harry wasn't hurt. He puzzled it over in his head while he climbed into bed and relaxed against the sheets. He slowly went over everything that had happened since the previous morning searching for clues.

He got to the part with the three Death Eaters when understanding hit him like a bolt of lightning. Had he been infected? He always assumed you needed to have actual sex in order to get diseases, but when Snape threw Avery off Harry that time, Snape asked him if Avery had put his cock inside of him. Maybe any form of penetration was enough to pass on a disease. If Harry had been infected with a disease, then Snape wouldn't be able to have sex with him anymore which would make Snape very angry. Even if he was getting some from Narcissa, she didn't visit more than once a month at the most. It explained why Snape was irritable, why he was reluctant to touch him, and why he was now insisting that Harry wear clothes. Harry examined his genitals for anything out of the ordinary, but they seemed fine. He didn't really know anything about sexual diseases, so he wasn't even sure exactly what he was supposed to be looking for. He certainly hoped it wasn't anything too horrible.

Ginny! Oh no, what would he do? He couldn't bear the thought of infecting her. What if this disease had no cure and he'd never be able to have sex with her? He felt sick. He climbed off his bed and exercised to try to take his mind off the matter. Snape was amazing with his potions. Maybe he could develop one to treat Harry. Maybe he was working on one right now. Harry hoped so; he couldn't stand the thought that he'd never be able to have straight sex.

When Snape arrived to serve dinner, Harry practically flew to the bars.

"Which one do I have?" he demanded loudly.

"What are you talking about?" Snape asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Which disease?" Harry persisted anxiously.

Snape stared at him. "You have no diseases as far as I know."

"I wasn't infected last night?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Of course not," Snape moved past him towards the table. He summoned dinner for the young wizard, then turned to leave.

"Then why won't you touch me?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Why would I touch you?" Snape sneered before leaving.

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He wasn't infected but Snape no longer wanted anything to do with him? Had Snape lost interest because of what the other Death Eaters did to him? Harry returned to his bed, feeling too sick to eat.

While he would miss sex orgasms, that wasn't what really bothered him. He liked the casual touches he shared with Snape and the almost friendship that had seemed to have grown between them. Even though Snape was a bastard, he could still show a surprising amount of warmth and tenderness. Now that he was no longer interested in Harry sexually, he had no reason to pretend to be nice to Harry other than to convince him to train.

Harry hoped this meant Voldemort would no longer require Snape to sleep with him. But then again, that might be worse. Maybe he'd be given to and raped by random Death Eaters at Voldemort's orders since Snape now refused to do it. His stomach turned at the knowledge of how cruel they would be. Thoughts of what they might do to him ran through his head, and he tried to block them out. He could do this, they couldn't hurt him unless he let them. He wanted Ron. He wanted Hermione. He wanted Ginny. He wanted someone who would be friendly to him because they liked him, not because of something they wanted from him or something he could do. Maybe he should write another letter?

Harry slid off the mattress and pulled out Billy Budd and the myth book. He returned to his bed and cleared a space to work on his letter. He delicately began to remove the letters for 'be careful,' the most important message he wanted to send.

He was gluing on the 'u' when the library door flew open and Snape stormed through. He had obviously masked his footsteps, because Harry didn’t hear him stop across the tiles to the bars. Harry ignored him and focused on his work.

"What are you doing?" Snape's hawk eyes were fixed on the letter.

"I'm writing a note," he answered, knowing Snape knew perfectly well what he was doing.

"And what do you imagine you're going to do with that note?" Snape asked, an eyebrow arching. "If you think I will allow Strix to be near you while you are in possession of it, you are sorely mistaken."

"I'll think of a way to send it later." Harry stuck the 'l' in place.

"Incendio!" The remains of Billy Budd and the myth book burst into flames.

"What the hell?" Harry stared at the ash that littered his mattress.

Snape cleaned the ash away with another flick of his wand. "Your lack of intelligence never ceases to amaze me. How can you be broken if you are writing notes?"

"They wouldn't know when I wrote it," Harry shot back. "And they never look under my mattress."

"Just because something hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't, you idiot!" yelled Snape. "You presumably have a brain. Use it for once!"

Harry curled his hands into fists. "Why are you here? Get out. I don't want to talk to you."

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Snape hissed as he stepped through the bars and marched over to the side of the bed.

"D'you want to fight me?" Harry asked, raising his fists and rising up on his knees so that he was on level with Snape. "Because I will. Right now, without magic. Let's do it."

"You are the most undisciplined-"

"And yet look what I've done! I've fooled most of them, haven't I? They think I'm broken! When I'm with you I-"

"Yes, I know," Snape interrupted. "You haven't fooled me and you haven't fooled the Dark Lord yet."

"How do you know? What if he never brings Nagini with him? How will you know?" Harry retorted defiantly.

"I'll know," Snape answered simply. "I will return to brewing now and you will forget this nonsense about sending notes. You need to play your part completely. If you can't do that, I will lock you in the cupboard to prevent you from doing something incredibly stupid which would give both of us away."

Harry crossed his arms. "Just because we aren't going to perform for Voldemort anymore doesn't mean you can treat me like shite."

"What makes you think we aren't going to perform anymore?" Snape asked coldly.

"Oh." Harry frowned in confusion. "I thought you didn't want to."

"Of course I don't want to!" Snape argued with a sneer. "I've never wanted to!"

"You're a liar!" Harry countered, stung by Snape's rejection.

"You can't tell when I'm pretending, can you?" Snape replied in a smug tone, his dark eyes glittering with self-satisfaction. "You believed that I actually enjoyed... that," he spat the word as if it were a curse. "Even if I were attracted to males, I would certainly never prefer a runt-"

Infuriated, Harry yelled, "You've never needed help to get hard! You want to fuck me! You enjoy fucking me!"

Snape's face twisted. "You spread your legs like a whore for me last night. You sucked him-"

Harry's anger exploded in a firestorm of rage. "DO YOU THINK I ENJOY BEING RAPED?" he screamed, leaping to his feet. Ablaze with fury, he was shaking so violently he could barely stand. "DO YOU THINK I LIKED IT WHEN YOU FOR-"

"SHUT UP!" Snape yelled as he whipped out his wand.

"Or what?" Harry hissed, his eyes burning. His jaw and fists were clenched so hard they hurt. "What are you going to do to me? Rape me again?"

Snape's twisted features slowly slid back to his normal mask of neutrality and Harry could tell he was desperately struggling to get his emotions under control. "I'll take away your voice until you've calmed down if that is what I must do. You need to eat your dinner. You need to train."

Harry glanced over at the table which had been cleared of dishes. His food must've returned to the kitchen untouched. "I don't feel hungry," he finally managed to say once he calmed himself enough to speak.

"You will, eventually." Snape's face finally returned to its usual indecipherable mask. "Eat your dinner and I will train you afterwards."

"Why are you so concerned about me eating my dinner?" Harry asked suspiciously. "Did you put more sleeping potions in it? I noticed you 'forgot' to mention the painkiller you gave to me last night was laced with them."

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape scoffed. "Why would I put a sedative in your dinner?"

"How should I know?" Harry answered mockingly, crossing his arms again. "Maybe you like to wank while I'm sleeping." Snape could use a wank or sex; he was far too wound up. He certainly wouldn't be getting it from Harry anytime soon.

Snape's face turned an ugly shade of red. He stepped back to the table and slammed his hand down against the surface so hard, Harry jumped from the loud crack. He removed his hand and Harry's dinner reappeared. Snape stomped forward again, his wand out and pointed menacingly at Harry's throat. The young wizard held his ground, glaring at Snape through narrowed eyes, challenging him to just try and use his magic against him.

"You won't be trained any more tonight and if you don't eat this meal, you won't be fed again until morning," Snape hissed, his dark eyes glittering with fury. He turned and marched out of the room, a black hurricane of anger.

Harry slammed his fist into his pillow as hard as he could. As soon as his knuckles sank into the pillow, his emotional control finally broke and Harry poured his rage out into it, imagining it was Snape's head as he pounded his fist into it over and over again. It wasn't enough to quell the anger that he'd been burying inside him and he snatched up the pillow, throwing it at the wall. The soft thud wasn't in the least bit satisfying, so Harry stormed over to the table, snatched up a chair, and threw it at the bars. The loud crack that rang through the room when it connected filled him with joy and he marched to the sink and grabbed up his toothpaste, throwing it at the opposite wall as hard as he could. He grabbed the rest of his toiletries, throwing them at the walls and the floor with all his strength. His mouthwash bottle was last, and when he slammed it into the tiles by his feet, the bottle broke open, spraying his lower limbs with green liquid. The destruction of the bottle was the catharsis he needed and his destructive anger slowly ebbed away, allowing him to regain some control over himself once more.

Feeling calmer, Harry bent down and examined the pieces, ignoring the wetness that now surrounded his feet. The bottle's lid had cracked and fallen off when he threw it, but the bottle itself was still intact. He closed his fingers around a piece of the broken lid and the sharp edge started to bite into his fingertips. He carefully picked up the pieces, flushing them down the toilet while he replaced the bottle on the ledge of the sink. His anger had diminished to the point where he no longer felt out of control, he fetched the flannel and quickly cleaned up the spilled liquid. When he was finished, he gathered up the rest of his toiletries. They were all fine except for the soap, which was broken in half. He returned them to his sink, lining them up again, each neatly placed in order as before.

His anger now almost completely abated, he retrieved his chair and ate his dinner, forcing down the pork chops. Snape had given him mangoes for dessert. Harry picked them up and examined them closely before eating a tiny bite. He waited until he was sure they weren't tainted with any potions before eating them slowly to savour the taste. If Snape thought he could be a dick and give him gifts to make up for it, he was sorely mistaken. Even head wouldn't make up for how much of a bastard he'd been lately. Okay, maybe head, a lot of head and really, really good head at that. He wouldn't let Snape touch him otherwise, not until he made up for his poor behaviour.

The thought of Snape being forced to give him head until he forgave Snape gave Harry great pleasure and he finally relaxed. He decided to read after dinner. He examined his books as he lifted up the mattress and thought briefly about attempting to write another letter, but Snape was right. If he'd got caught with the letter, he wouldn’t have had an excuse. It was pure luck his first message hadn’t been intercepted; Snape would've got in serious trouble if the note had been found. Still… he missed his friends so very much… He looked at the picture of Ginny until his heart ached too much for him to think about her any longer. He closed Cosmos and picked up The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Replacing his mattress, he climbed into bed and settled under the covers to read. Getting lost in a fantasy world would take his mind off his current troubles, at least for a little while.

Harry read until he fell asleep.


[[Okay, so what you do you guys think?]]



Chapter 1 ... 40 41 42 43a/43b