Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To Find The Missing Lifeline	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37355 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
14. Settling Down

     Draco still had to get used to the small movements inside of him. Sometimes they were a little too unexpected. They weren't frequent yet, however, and they were weak. But it also made him very aware of the life right inside of him, as he could now feel it, not only know of its existence theoretically. He knew he already loved his child. 'Maybe you're going to love me, too, so I won't need anything or anyone else at all. We have each other. I ought to think more about you and me, and not to waste my time, thinking about the person who betrayed me. I wish I was stronger for you,' he thought, touching his belly fondly.

     Teachers usually left Hogwarts later than the students, so Draco had to stay at school a little longer with Severus.

"I have some news. I've sold all my immovable property and have purchased an estate. It's not very big, but it's quite worthy, in my opinion. Fresh air, no close neighbourhood. Just what we both..." Severus interrupted himself and cast a glance over Draco's belly, "...three of us need, I assume," he corrected himself. Draco smiled. He found it nice that his child was already taken into account.

"Great news. I was... a little anxious about asking if I may continue living with you. Even if I get the Manor back, I'm not sure if I could live there. And I'm certainly not sure the place is good for a child. I won't feel... comfortable there." Gods, the Manor was tainted and defiled by many murders of innocent people and by the filthiest magic. What kind of person would bring a child there?

"I'm rather surprised that you had doubts. And Draco, happy birthday," the man said, giving him some box. Of course, it was the fifth of June! He wondered how he could forget about his own birthday. Draco was nineteen... He opened the box and found two books about pregnancy. The smaller one was about the male pregnancy. He wondered where Severus had found such a rare thing. That was really useful. The fifth month of Draco's pregnancy had almost begun; he was, in fact, more than halfway through pregnancy, and he still wasn't well-informed about some forthcoming things.

     Two days later it was their time to leave. When all the bags were packed, Draco cast the last glance at his room that wasn't actually his anymore. He wasn't very unhappy about leaving. Many consequential events had taken place in this room, good and bad (bad things had overshadowed most of the good things, if truth be told), but it was just another thing he had to try to leave behind. The apparition wasn't quite comfortable for Draco. And he was sure that his baby wasn't happy about it, too, starting to move, so Draco could feel the child's displeasure somehow. Once they entered the house, the blond looked around. The house was spacious. But it was cold, despite of the summer (which was rainy and not quite warm yet), and Severus had yet to take care about it, casting the appropriate spells, but for now he set the fire in the fireplace of the large living room and placed the armchair in front of it.

"Here. Take a seat. I have a few things to do, and after that we'll have a dinner," the man said. Draco nodded and sank into a chair, which made him feel much more comfortable.

     Plunged in his thoughts, he wasn't aware that he wasn't alone in the room, and when he noticed the small creature, watching him carefully, he flinched slightly. The house elf...

"Florie asks her forgiveness. She wanted to see her young master; she didn't mean to scare him. Florie serves the dinner in ten minutes," the elf said, still looking at him inquisitively.

"Good. I'm hungry. We'll be in the dining room, once Severus is done with the wards," Draco replied.

"Florie doesn't want to be curious, but is the young master expecting?" she asked, looking confused, because he was actually a young man, so she wasn't sure if her magical senses weren't deceiving her.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Oh, wonderful!" she squeaked happily. "Children of Florie's previous masters are being long grown-ups. The house misses children's presence."

"This is a secret, do you understand?"

"Of course, young master. Florie can hold her tongue."

"Could you get me an apple, Florie?"

"Yes, sir," she bowed. When the small creature disappeared, Draco saw an owl outside the window. He recognised the bird - it was Goyle's. He let her in and untied the envelope from her leg. In his letter Gregory congratulated him on finishing school. They'd been in correspondence with each other for some time already and Draco had finally stopped calling him 'a former friend' in his thoughts. Even if they hadn't seen each other for a long time and it was rather doubtful that they would see each other any time soon, those letters always made his mood better. While he was waiting for Severus to have a dinner together, he had some time to write back.

     Severus was busy, casting the sustained warming spells on the house and strong protective wards around it. He was nearly drained when he'd finished, and he had yet to strengthen the wards, but decided to leave it for another day.

     After dinner Draco was walking about the house. It wasn't bad at all! Most rooms were large. The house was probably very old, but it had been taken care of, so there was no shabbiness: no ramshackle furniture, no cracks on the walls and ceilings, no dust. Everything was in a good state. Draco was given four rooms at his disposal. That was almost half of the rooms on the second floor. One of them he made his bedroom and there was a door to the bathroom, the other one made a comfortable study. The third one became some kind of his private sitting room with the balcony where were a lot of flowerpots with different ornamental plants, but there still was some free space. And the fourth one... Well, he intended to make it a nursery later. He still had things to purchase. Couple of weeks later he really started to feel that he was at home. Finally... Fresh air and calmness.

     For Draco everything was mostly fine, but Severus sometimes had to endure the boy's mercurial mood as patiently as he could. Draco had given the man a hard time when couple of times he'd been crying for hours because of... well, because of nothing. The only explanation Severus had forced out of him was that his godson was afraid to lose everything he had now. The older man had only sighed at this. And then, all of a sudden, everything had been back to normal.

     The blond knocked at the door of the potions laboratory, knowing that his godfather had been brewing something for almost four hours already, but Draco got bored to be alone.

"Draco, don't come in," the man replied without opening the door.

"Why?" the blond asked, still standing at the door, but frowned at himself, because he knew the answer very well.

"I'm brewing one special potion. The fumes are quite toxic," the irritated voice replied. Seriously, they had already discussed it and Severus forbade the boy to brew anything at all and to breathe in any fumes that could be harmful for him and his child.

"I just wanted to offer you a chess game."

"I can take a break in fifteen minutes," the man promised. But when almost twenty minutes later he entered the living room, he found the boy curled up on the canapé and was told that Draco wasn't in the mood for the game anymore. Severus gritted his teeth, leaving the sulky boy alone, and returned to his work. However, his peace didn't last. Ten minutes later he heard several tentative knocks at the door. Draco politely apologised for his behaviour through the door and asked if Severus was still interested in having a chess game. The man was ready to beat his head against the wall. He refrained himself from snapping at his godson, reminding himself that Draco was pregnant and his mood swings weren't something very unusual, though it wasn't making it less annoying. It was not that his godson was left without any attention, he had nothing to complain about; they were spending a lot of time together, they were talking about many different things, they were walking outside the house, where was no one else around to see them, so why couldn't Severus be left alone for some time? Draco was the most important (even the only important) person for him, but that didn't mean he intended to give up all his interests.

"Later," he replied through the clenched teeth, trying to keep his emotions under control.

"Fine. I'll be in the living room," Draco informed almost cheerfully after a short pause and left the relieved man alone.

"Severus, what are you planning to do?" the blond asked him another day, knowing for sure that his godfather was working on something more than just potions during the last week.

"Along with two mediwizards, I've been asked to make a close study of the mental state of Longbottoms," the man replied.

"Longbottoms? I thought they were a hopeless case. Do you think it's possible to return them sanity?"

"We'll see. I won't dare to make any promises or prognosis yet. It's all very questionable. Perhaps, we'll be able to return them something."

"Be careful, Severus, you've just almost convinced me that you decided to devote yourself to the exalted aims of the philanthropy," Draco joked.

"Merlin forbid. We both know that it's all about the challenge. By the way, they will be conveyed here two times a week, since I refused to work in hospital. I'll make sure they won't bother you, at any rate."

"Can I help you?"

"Of course. I'm sure, you'll be very useful. They require someone to wipe the saliva, leaking down their chins," the man replied impassively. Draco gasped and pouted at first.

"Severus, your kindness knows no bounds," he then rolled up his eyes, chuckling.

"I imagine you'll be even more 'pleased' to know that their son will be visiting them here."

"Oh, no. Please, tell me that was a joke. That Gryffindor here..." the blond frowned again.

"Draco, stop whining. I'm not particularly enthusiastic about it, too, but he may influence the result of my work. They're his parents, after all," Severus answered.

"What if he sees me?" Draco asked, looking down at his belly.

"Surely the house is big enough to avoid any undesirable meetings. I believe it's possible for you to stay on the second floor twice a week for a few hours."

"If he finds out about me, I'll obliviate him or probably even kill him, depending on my mood," the blond shrugged and took another sip of his tea.

"There's a strong probability of the latter, given that your mood has been terribly and unbelievably annoying," the man pointed out darkly.

"No, I'll better leave it up to you. You scare the hell out of that worthless Gryffindor, so I hope he'll run away after the very first visit and won't show up here again."

"At least, I'll be working and busy enough to escape your company, because you have definitely set yourself the task of getting on my nerves," Severus grumbled. Draco grinned at that.

     Harry and Ginny had started to live together right after leaving school. The very next day, actually. They had purchased a house even before the school year had ended. It wasn't big, but quite enough for two of them. Their cohabitation hadn't been unclouded from the start. Harry didn't like the house, but he wasn't sure if he would have felt more comfortable anywhere else at all. At least, Ginny liked it very much. Sometimes Harry asked himself, what he was doing there. No, he wasn't feeling like he was at home. He probably needed time to get used to the new house; but the time went by, and he felt more and more alien to that place. He felt strangely irritated when anyone was coming into the house, which he couldn't even start to consider as his own, but still he hated it being 'crowded', even by Ron and Hermione, not to mention all of his other friends. Their visits were frustrating. He was ignoring all their questions when they were asking if something was wrong with him. Something was definitely wrong. His life was losing its sense, turning into some pointless existing. When he was sleeping with Ginny, he wasn't really there anymore. It became some kind of a... Of a what? A duty? A habit? He felt guilty every time, because, of course, she was noticing that he was becoming colder and colder. It came down to his avoidance of being with her at all. He was just saying that he was tired and was falling asleep without even touching her. Not all the time, but often enough. They were arguing frequently, and he knew he had to care more about it than he actually cared, but he couldn't. But yes, he felt guilty. Eventually, he started to drink. A lot. It was the only way he found to while away his incredibly long and boring days.

     Ginny returned after visiting her parents. Harry had refused to go with her, because he was ashamed to look in the eyes of those people, and he hadn't felt like having fun anyway. In their minds they all were preparing themselves for their wedding. Well, not that soon, of course, since both Harry and Ginny were quite young, but still everyone was prophesying that it would happen sooner or later. The thought was so alien to Harry. In addition, Ginny was talking about it sometimes, making hints, looking through the magazines with the wedding dresses of all possible kinds. She was talking about the countries she would like to visit during their honeymoon. Sometimes he was annoyed and angry about it, even if he wasn't showing it; sometimes he was asking himself again what he was doing in that house with her. His headaches were becoming unbearable because of those thoughts. And when he had started drinking, she was very confused. So when she returned home from her parents and found her Harry on the sofa in the living room, completely smashed, she scowled at him.

"You're drunk again!" she exclaimed, stumbling over the empty bottle of firewhisky. It rolled away.

"Yes. So what?" he replied unemotionally. He was so tongue-tied right now.

"I've never seen you like this," she frowned. Well, she had seen him drunk, but not this drunk, so he wouldn't even be able to get up from the sofa even if he wanted to.

"You've never seen me at all," he shrugged after a pause. "You've seen... a Saviour, a Golden Boy, just... perfection. I'm fucking tired of being perfect and... an example. You can't please everybody," he chuckled bitterly. "If all the children will follow my example and start drinking just as their Saviour, I... don't give a fuck about it. Well, come on, tell me that I behave improperly..." It seemed it had taken forever to finish, since he was very bad with words right now. And he suddenly started to feel angry. A good amount of the strong drink inside of him made him feel aggressive. "Are you disgusted to see me like this? Good! I'm going to sleep here. I'm tired and I need rest."

"Do what you want!" she snapped and went to the bedroom. The clatter of her heels was infuriating.

     At first he apologised after every time he had got drunk, but then he stopped apologising at all. He was going crazy, he knew it. Once he had even got lost in Wizarding London, completely forgetting where he lived and feeling disoriented. He had been sober and still it had happened. The memory had returned after some time of roaming, but it wasn't a good sign anyway. Everyone worried about him. Hermione insisted that he had to get professional help. Thankfully, Ginny stood up for him, saying that he wasn't in need of anything like that, that he was just having a hard period of his life, that it was all about the adaptation to the new life. She decided that he just had to have some fun, since they weren't going out anywhere at all together. Almost every day they got the invitations to the high-society parties. She gave him several cards, so he could choose. One by one he threw them into the fireplace to her frustration. He was drunk again.

"Oh, how I want Voldemort back right now! This world simply needs him," he said, throwing the last one into the fire and then he took another sip from his bottle.

"What are you saying?" she gasped in shock.

"The truth. I'd rather fight and smell blood than looking at the faces of some stupid hypocrites. I don't even know them and they keep sending me this shit. Why? For another article in the paper? Voldemort would have entertained them much better, so they'd stop thinking about all of this crap," he mumbled.

"You're saying some crazy, incoherent nonsense," she shook her head.

"Maybe..."

     Some of his statements scared her. She removed every bottle of the strong drink from the house, but he bought even more. Harry wasn't interested in anything at all. He even refused to go to the Quidditch matches with his friends. No one could drag him out of the house. Sometimes he was going for a walk alone, without any wish to come back. But he couldn't do it to Ginny. He was already upsetting her very much and couldn't do anything about it.

     Once he was walking for a longer time than usually. It was already evening. He was roaming about Wizarding London pointlessly, until he saw him... Lean body, dressed in expensive, long robes; blond hair, soft features. Harry's attention was riveted on him and he couldn't tear his eyes off the blond. All the other people around this beauty started to seem ugly and grotesque. Sometimes the same thing had happened to Ginny's face, but he'd been drunk every time he'd seen that disturbing ugliness, so that was explainable. And now he was completely sober. He followed him. The good-looking young man was shopping. He stopped in front of the window of the clothes shop and saw something that made him interested. The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly and he entered. His mouth... Pink lips. Harry was waiting for him outside and the blond went out fifteen minutes later. The brunet had the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He was about twenty one - twenty two years old. His face was not as pale as Harry would have preferred, his hair was not as pale as he would have preferred, his eyes were aquamarine, but that didn't matter. Pink lips, blond hair, pink lips, blond hair, pink lips... Slightly dizzy, he followed the young blond man like a hungry cat, pursuing its prey. Once the unsuspecting man turned to the small and narrow side street, empty of people, probably deciding to take a short cut to the other, more crowded street, Harry grabbed his prey from behind, turned him around and cornered him. The man gasped, but before he had a chance to offer his money and anything not to get hurt, he was kissed roughly. Harry didn't care about the resistance. He grabbed the blonde's wrists and brought them behind the man's back, holding them tight, but not tight enough to cause any acute pain. Protesting moans and whimpers of the man, whose mouth was shut with a deep kiss, only made Harry even more persistent. The trembling blond broke the kiss several times, turning his face aside, but Harry wasn't giving him a chance to scream, kissing him again and again. Although Harry was a little younger, he was stronger, so the blond couldn't tear himself away. The brunet was nearly pressing the man into the wall with his body. Their clothes weren't hindering him from feeling the blonde's racing heart with his own chest.

"Please, no... Pl... hummph!" the man begged, but his mouth was shut with another kiss. When he felt a very hard erection, pressed into his groin, he finally realised that 'the robber' wasn't interested in his money at all, and nearly froze in panic. The brunet groped his buttocks with one hand. The other hand was still holding his wrists together behind his back. Harry was grinding his groin against the blonde's. Feeling that his body started to respond against his will, the scared young man flushed with shame and embarrassment, making another attempt to tear himself away. He was writhing, but was held in place firmly. Harry didn't care; he was drunk with his lust. He wanted him so much that any self-control was forgotten, and it felt good. In caressing way he was touching the blond locks, his hand travelled down the tensed back and squeezed the buttocks gently, once his hand had snaked into the blonde's trousers and briefs. The sexually assaulted young man screamed in the back of his throat, because the sound didn't escape - it was muffled with persistent kiss again. Harry was wondering deep inside, why his blond was so tensed and scared. He couldn't possibly think that Harry would hurt him.

"Shhhh... Don't be afraid. Please. I won't hurt you, baby..." he tried to soothe him, but that was hardly convincing for the blond. And then Harry suddenly looked into the scared aquamarine eyes. They were begging him to stop, filled with the unshed tears. He saw them even if the side street was hardly illuminated. The realisation hit him like a dagger made of ice. Well, that was sobering, indeed. Shocked with himself, he slowly got his hands off the shaking blond and made several steps back. For about a minute the young man was afraid to move, refusing to believe that he'd been let go just like that. His panicked mind tried to find some catch. Finally he moved away from the wall and started to walk back hesitantly. He couldn't turn his back on the other man or do anything to provoke him, even if he saw in the semidarkness that the other man wasn't doing anything to look threatening. The blond couldn't be sure about it though, still being in a state of shock. When he disapparated, Harry grabbed his hair in distress, ready to pull them out, as he was realising what he had just done (and what else he could have done if he hadn't stopped in time), and wondering what the hell had come over him that he had become (or had nearly become) a rapist! He wasn't even drunk at all. He wanted to die. He also wanted to firecall the Aurors and surrender, but dismissed the thought, refusing to leave this place and hoping that the blond man would call them himself. Harry didn't care if he would be arrested. He deserved it. He sat down on the ground where he'd just committed his crime, deciding to make it easier for the Aurors to find the dangerous criminal. His head hurt like hell. He lay down and fell asleep some time later.

     The chill woke him up in the morning. He was still there, in the side street near the wall, not in Azkaban where he belonged. It made him feel even worse. The blond he had assaulted was obviously far from being poor and he probably didn't want to draw such an embarrassing attention to his family, so he remained silent about what had happened. That was frustrating. He'd been attacked by some perverse psychopath, for Merlin's sake! That couldn't just remain unpunished. Harry wondered if the young man would be all right and if he would manage to go on unscarred after such traumatizing experience. 'Well, I'm already quite experienced in ruining someone's life, one way or another,' Harry thought to himself with the dark sarcasm.

     When he returned 'home', he was met by concerned Ginny.

"Where have you been?! I was worried sick!" she exclaimed.

"I needed to be alone for some time," he replied.

"But..."

"Please, don't say anything," he interrupted with the slight frown. She followed him as he was searching through the house, opening every single sideboard. At last, he found what he'd been looking for. Whisky. He took the bottle into the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked with worry.

"I want to take a bath if you don't mind," he answered coldly, turning the water on.

"Are you going to drink? Mother is waiting for us today," she frowned.

"Then you're going to apologise for me, because I'm not going anywhere," he said. She stormed out, slamming the door behind herself. Harry undressed himself and got into the bath. Relaxing in the hot water, he was drinking whisky straight from the bottle. Soon all his troubles and self-hatred became distant...

     Ginny was at her parents' house and he felt strangely relieved. But he wanted someone by his side right now. He decided to do what he'd thought, he never would: he firecalled some elite brothel and asked to send 'anyone'. When the good-looking woman asked him, what kind of company he desired, asking him to be more specific, he said that he wanted a young blond man and everything else didn't matter. Ten minutes later a beautiful boy, about eighteen years old, was standing in front of the fireplace. His sandy blond hair was long, nearly reaching his waistline, and his face looked a little too feminine, but his drunk client didn't care.

"What's your name?" Harry asked. The boy opened his delicate mouth to answer, but Harry stopped him: "No, don't tell me". He led the boy into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, watching as the blond was undressing himself. He was quite pretty indeed. Harry's attention was attracted by two beautiful tattoos: the one on the small of the boy's back and the other one was a snake around his ankle. Snakes were quite fine by him. He also looked into the boy's eyes. Their colour was something between grey and green. They looked so innocent and pure... Harry didn't really care; though he could bet that most clients would gladly give all their savings to touch this body. He undressed, too, and laid the boy into bed. He started to caress him, touch him, kiss and lick him all over. The blond attempted to touch him back, but Harry shook his head. He wanted to touch and not to be touched. The boy couldn't remember when he'd been touched so gently and by such a handsome and young man, probably of the same age as he was. Not that he had much experience. If only the client wasn't this drunk... But the blond wasn't the one to complain. He thought that the brunet resembled someone well-known. When he thought about Harry Potter, whose photographs he'd seen in the papers many times, he laughed at himself silently. Surely the Saviour had enough fans in the whole Wizarding World, eager to please him, so he'd never use such services for a fee. Soon he wasn't thinking about anything at all, panting as he was enjoying the caresses. Harry couldn't think, he could hardly remember anything, and he didn't want to. Most of his senses were working hard, despite of his drunken state: every single sound, the pleasant smell, the images (even if they were dim and he suspected that he was seeing someone else's body in his mind), the sense of touch. It was simply overwhelming. The skin under his palms and fingertips felt wonderful. But he wasn't really focusing on the body he was touching; only his own senses were important now. He wanted to feel! He was hungry and thirsty for this, absorbing every single detail. The emotions returned with revenge, flooding him, since he had been feeling so little recently. Just sometimes the emotions had been breaking through some invisible barriers. So now, when it all was so strong and so intense, he wanted to scream. And then it suddenly stopped. He became indifferent. He could touch this smooth skin or a rough stone and feel the same. He pressed his face to the other boy's chest and started to sob, feeling himself even more drunk and tired than before.

"Have I done anything wrong?" the blond asked, very confused. What could he have possibly done wrong when he hadn't been doing anything?

"No," Harry replied quietly. He lay near the other boy. His head started to hurt. Again...

"Should I leave?"

"No. Stay with me. I need some sleep. Just stay here. I'll pay for your time," the brunet said, speaking in a thick voice. The angelic eyes looked at him and the boy nodded. Harry covered them both with the blanket and wrapped his arms around the delicate body. The blond held him in return. Harry fell asleep very soon.

     When Ginny returned in the evening and entered the bedroom, she was stunned, seeing her Harry in their bed, sleeping with the other girl and holding her in his arms protectively. When she approached, she saw that it wasn't even a girl. It was a feminine, long-haired boy, sleeping with her Harry in their bed! The gender didn't matter though, because Harry had been fucking someone right here in their house!

"What the fuck does it mean!" she yelled. Both boys woke up immediately. Harry winced. Her voice was literally splitting his head. At first he couldn't even understand why Ginny was so mad. Yelling and scolding, she tried to hit the blond, but Harry foresaw it and took the hit upon himself.

"Filthy slut! I'll kill you! Dirty fag! Whore!!!" she shouted furiously. Harry wasn't giving her a chance to hurt his blond. Though, why his? He wasn't his at all... But, anyway, the other boy wasn't guilty of what was happening, so Harry received every single hit, slap and several stinging curses, protecting the blond with his body. Harry didn't make a sound though. In rage Ginny threw a heavy statuette; it hit the wall right above the headboard of the bed and shattered, making the body under Harry's flinch. After that she retreated to the window, sobbing loudly with her head buried in her hands. Using the opportunity, Harry helped the blond to get out of the bed and gathered all his clothes off the floor. He led the boy down into the living room and gave him his clothes.

"I'm really sorry that you've witnessed that," Harry sighed. He paid twice as much again as they had previously agreed. At this the blond gave him a perplexed look, it was quite a lot of money for just... sleeping, but Harry shook his head.

"Take it. And you better find a good job. I see this one is quite dangerous," he chuckled darkly. The blond couldn't help, but smile. He pressed his lips to the brunet's. Harry gave him some floo powder and the naked boy was soon gone.

     Harry didn't know what to do. Returning to the bedroom wasn't a good idea and he didn't want to explain Ginny that he had been sleeping with the blond and not really having sex with him (he had been kissing and caressing him though), simply because he couldn't. 'Fuck it. I'm tired of trying to explain my actions to myself, so it's stupid to try to explain it to anyone else,' he thought and found another bottle of whisky. 'Well, the last two days were quite eventful,' the thought sarcastically. First, he had nearly raped the young man, like some savage maniac (he was still waiting for the Aurors to find and arrest him), then he had spent the night in the street; he had got drunk again, he had slept with the prostitute, he had been beaten up and cursed by Ginny, as a result.

"Cheers, Harry!" he chuckled and took a few sips of the strong drink.

     In the morning after the sleepless night, blind drunk and still naked Harry entered the kitchen where Ginny was cooking something. He held her tight from behind, nearly hanging on her as he could hardly stand on his feet.

"What are you doing to me, Ginny?" he mumbled, though it was very hard for him to talk at all, not to mention that he was hardly realising what exactly he was saying. She froze and closed her eyes. Everything was falling apart. But it was going to be all right, she would find a way to make it better, so they would be very happy together again.
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To Find The Missing Lifeline