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
- 15
- 16
- 17
  The title of this chapter (just as the title of the story itself) is the line from one of my favourite songs, which is 'Nemo' by Nightwish. Do not own.

15. My Loving Heart Lost In The Dark

     Every night now Harry was sleeping in the guest room, and that was fine by him. He wanted Ginny, he needed her; sometimes he needed her desperately, but he was now too absorbed in his problems. He had asked her to give him time, but never explained anything. She wasn't taking it well. He didn't care though. In part, he was doing it for her, because his demeanour was hurting her (and other people, too).

     All right... He had a problem. A real one. Something was often blocking his emotions and confusing his mind. His taking of alcoholic drinks wasn't a cause, it was an effect. He had to get to the roots of the problem. The daylight was hurting right now; he had to be in the darkness, not to be distracted by any visual images. Something had to be done right now while his mind was clear. He just knew it. He couldn't just put up with it, knowing that he was going insane. He went downstairs to the basement. It was colder down there, it was dark and silent. Harry was still sober these early hours. He groped his way in the dark and sat down near the wall. When he managed to relax and clear his mind, he started to think. What was wrong with him? Why had he abandoned his friends, why was he avoiding them? Why had he lost all his interests and, first of all, the interest in living his life? There had to be some reason of this depression. The depression, like drinking, was an effect, a consequence, not a cause. When had it started? Hogwarts. But when exactly? He'd been happy, he could remember it. It had been so long ago it seemed... That was it! The pain... A headache. For a long time he'd been complying with this pain subconsciously, letting it rule over him just to make it stop hurting. It was normal for any human being to avoid pain. What if he tried to fight it? It felt like it was trying to keep him from something. He continued his introspection despite of it, just to understand its nature. Yes, he had been happy. Why had it ended? No, that was the wrong question. What had been making him happy? A good question to start with. He'd been happy with Ginny, but wasn't happy anymore... He was soon exhausted and the pain became unbearable, so he had to stop. 'It's not over,' he promised himself.

     The next few days he was repeating the experiment, but every time his soul-searching was ending with terrible pain, so he couldn't think anymore. The progress was very small, but still, he started to see some things clearer in his mind; things from his past, not quite memories, but feelings and emotions that were associated with those memories. The emotions, - that was important; he wasn't having any amnesia when his mind was clear. He could remember everything: events, sounds, images, people. But what had he been feeling, experiencing them? He often remembered angriness and depression. But it couldn't be all he'd been feeling, could it? He had a hard time, analysing most things. Harry wasn't even sure if he was doing the right thing, but he was following his intuition.

     It was the time to take a risk and to go deeper. He went to the basement again, taking several vials of potions with him. Three of them were strong pain-relieving potions that usually were a good help to ease the headaches. And two other vials were full of the potion that was helpful when the person needed to concentrate, to focus on something, to see things clearer. It had a side effect though: when it was wearing off several hours later, the person had a strong drowsiness and then slept for many hours. But it wasn't a problem for Harry. He had enough time. He drained one of the vials. The taste was good and fresh, unlike most potions. It felt comfortable in the dark. Aside from the fact that the darkness eased his headache, allowing him to focus on something, it also had probably something to do with the time he had spent in the cupboard when he was little, where he had always found it easier to think and plan, despite his hating of the place. After clearing his mind, as he'd usually done lately, he started his introspection. Skipping right to the point was never good, so he started with the easier tasks. At first he remembered Quidditch and all the feelings he'd had about it. The feeling of fly, the adrenaline, the speed, the dizziness... The triumph when he'd been catching a snitch, the pain when he had been injured. He was doing well, so far, and complimented himself for this. He liked this game of associations. He'd been doing this exercise for several previous days, and he'd already got a little better in it. The next thing... Voldemort. Why not? It wasn't necessary to remember only good emotions. The hatred, the fear of being possessed, the responsibility for the lives of the other people. Not all the things could be described with words, so he just tried to remember them, to feel them again without analysing. It was working, though not as good as he wanted. And then his friends... That was harder, but he managed to feel that he loved them, but why the hell was he avoiding them then? Albus Dumbledore... When Harry had been younger, he'd admired the man. Yes, he could remember it. He could remember, how broken he'd been when Dumbledore had died. But then, after the war, when he'd been older, he had been looking back with a lot of doubts. So many things were questionable. He'd been feeling betrayed, but this feeling was never on the surface. Confusion, guilt that he'd been so disrespectful to the memory of the man, but doubts, doubts, doubts... The first kiss. Cho. Wet. He chuckled at himself. All right, it had been thrilling, because it had been the first kiss, but it hadn't been something very breathtaking. Ginny... And that was when he felt confused. The first time she had kissed him, it felt completely astonishing, mind-blowing. The happiness flooded him at the memory. But... He had to be honest with himself, even if it felt far too comfortable not to. The emotions were too vivid. Like some kind of exaggeration. Like a true story that was embellished with some small details that had never taken place. Had it really been that wonderful? The more he doubted and questioned himself, the more his headache intensified. He took one of the potions to ease the pain and started to take deep breaths. That kiss had been good, and deep, and touching; and he'd liked it, he knew it, but... Suddenly he remembered the young man he had been molesting days ago against the man's will. Harry hadn't been himself and it was something he still couldn't explain. 'Dursleys were right, - I'm just a freak...' He'd never thought he could be so violent. What could have been the reason? He remembered the way he'd spotted the man and had had a feeling of ecstasy and adoration; not very intense feeling though, but still he'd been enthralled, as if the blond had come down from heaven into this ugly world, no less. Really odd feeling. And why? His hair, the softness of his features... The man was blond. So what? What was about the blonds? He was dreaming about the blonds sometimes, though those dreams were always clouded and dim. And that certainly wasn't enough reason, nor was it an excuse, for harassing and raping people in the dark streets. Harry felt terribly ashamed of himself. And the blond prostitute? How could he be so unfaithful to Ginny? But it couldn't be just some obsession with the hair colour or some unrealised fantasy. There had to be the reason, unless Harry was just a sexually frustrated pervert. 'Think... Think! Don't lose it.'

     Delicateness, paleness... Pale skin, pale blond hair, pale eyelashes. The eyes are opening. Grey, light, deep; so deep that the whole Harry's universe could drown in them. They are captivating. Smoothness of skin... It is so warm and comforting to hold the lean body in his arms.

     The grey eyes, paleness and smoothness... All of it was Draco's, of course. But what did Draco have to do with this? The blond had been something in Harry's past, something that had ended. Or... Something was seriously disconnected in Harry's mind. Something was lost and missed, making Harry's heart feel uneasy. Another potion not to lose his concentration was taken. Just a half of the second vial for now. The pain-relieving followed, because the pain in his head was becoming very distracting. What Harry had felt and still felt sometimes, was the guilt. He'd hurt Draco, ruined something. Was that all? 'For fuck's sake! We had such strong emotions towards each other, since we both were eleven years old, that I wondered how the air itself wasn't blazing up around us, burning people alive and everything else that could or couldn't burn, when we were just looking at each other! Sometimes I felt that together we could start a real catastrophe. Okay, I was very young and I liked to overstate. But our fury and our passion... It was there. We were driving each other mad. Gods and people, and Merlin knows who else, are the witnesses, we were! My school years would have been poor without it. And then we became friends and lovers, and I wasn't unhappy about it. I was far from being unhappy! Where's all of that now? Why can't I remember how all of it really felt, even if I've lost the interest?' Harry got angry, but calmed down soon. Draco then. A great challenge for his mind it seemed.

     Harry is lying on Draco's lean body between his parted legs, inside of him. He's looking at the slightly flushed face and half-lidded eyes. The pink lips are parted. They're whispering and mumbling something incoherent, but sweet; something that Draco himself hardly realises he's doing. Harry is moving slowly, rubbing the blonde's hard erection with his abdomen. Gentle hands are caressing the small of his back. It has to feel good...

     It was confusing and the emotions were weak, even if the pictures in his mind were beautiful. He decided to start with something else. Their first Quidditch match. Yes, that was truly a fine thing to remember. Draco - little, evil (and very good-looking, as usually) snake had been insulting him. They'd been in front of each other. And then... the snitch. So close to the angry blond that it had almost been tickling his ear with its wing, and Draco had been too busy even to notice it. Harry laughed. Yes, he actually laughed at the memory. His headache returned again (too soon after taking a potion), but he continued. The sorting. The Hat had hardly even touched the blond head when it had sorted Draco into the Slytherin, and the little, pompous, arrogant and very happy arse had headed towards the table of his house. For Harry it had been another (if not the most important) reason to go 'anywhere but Slytherin'. And then he remembered the way the little prick had scared the hell out of him by dressing himself like a Dementor (later, when they had become friends, Draco had confessed that he was scared of the Dementors just as much as Harry).

     He was thinking about a lot of things in their past. Arrogant, self-satisfied brat, turning up his nice nose all the time, but very appealing, even when malicious. Once or twice, listening to Draco's stinging remarks, Harry couldn't help but remember that many centuries ago in the Muggle World people had erroneously believed that the snakes 'bit' with their forked tongues, which, in their opinion, were saturated with poison, and the snakes were aggressive enough to stick it out all the time. And Draco... What a trap, - the angelic appearance could be so very deceptive. But Harry hadn't been shown that Draco was much more than that, - deep, many-sided person, until they had become friends.

     When the thoughts brought him to their sixth year, when he had nearly killed Draco and had been standing there in shock, completely stunned, seeing the boy lying on the floor with the horrible, bleeding wounds all over his body, he felt sad. There was a pain in his chest, but that was good - he could feel. It had always given him strong emotions. Many times before, he'd returned to that particular moment of his life, and every time he thought about the way he could have probably avoided that situation. 'It's normal after the tragic events. Many people think about the things they could have done different, post factum.' Back then, he could have tried to find a way to talk to Draco, who had been very lonely, depressed and cornered. He'd had no idea what exactly he could have done or said to the blond (who had had to be bound and gagged first, because there had been no way he would have listened otherwise). Harry had been following Draco during the whole sixth year; not only he'd been worrying about what the blond could do, but he'd also worried about him. That hadn't been helpful, however, to prevent the tragic events. And then, another memory. The Malfoy's Manor. Draco's face in front of hardly recognisable Harry's. But Draco had recognised him. Of course, he had. They'd been rivals for years, so it would have been ridiculous if he hadn't recognised The Golden Trio. It had been the moment when Harry had been seeing the Slytherin very close. He had been looking into the grey eyes for the first time like that, noticing their true colour, - the unusual shade of light-grey and the other details, noticing the tiredness; even noticing 'help me, I can't take it anymore', though Draco had hardly wanted it to be noticed. And he hadn't been like one of those people around him. 'Like a white wilting and lonely rose among the decaying weed,' Harry remembered his own thought once again and, speaking of roses, another memory flashed across his mind. A white rose, left on Draco's pillow... Yes, it had been left near the peacefully sleeping blond. The headache was killing Harry now, but he refused to stop and leave everything like this.

     He knew his painful memories were incredibly strong, so he concentrated on them. Now they could be even more useful than any others.

     Fucking bastards - Dursleys, insulting the memory of his parents, telling him that they'd been alcoholics and worthless people. Cedric's terrible death on the graveyard when the ugly bastard had returned. Draco, crying and looking so betrayed when Harry had been leaving him. Sirius' death; fucking unfair death after the twelve years of undeserved imprisonment and after he and Harry had found each other!

     Feeling that he was about to faint, Harry cast 'Rennervate' on himself and drank another potion to ease the headache. His magic was wild around him and the pain was hardly only physical now. It was still better than the dumb indifference. All he needed to do was hold on to his thoughts and emotions, not to lose them, no matter what, even when the thread, that was binding him to them, was becoming thin and was about to tear. Harry knew he was screaming and writhing on the wooden floor.

     People, turning their backs on him after his fourth year and he'd been accused of lies; and not many had believed their 'Golden Boy'! Eleven-year-old Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets and he hadn't been sure that she'd been still alive. Poisoned Ron. Tortured Hermione. The Dementor, sucking out what little happiness Harry had had in his life. Draco, beaten up by the Gryffindors and bleeding, standing near the wall, surrounded and helpless. Hatred or fear of many people, who'd thought that Harry had been an heir of Salazar Slytherin. Deaths of his parents, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Dobby and so many other people... Loss, sorrow, pain, misery, helplessness, loneliness, grief, regrets.

     Harry heard himself screaming again. He had a faint thought that he was probably driving himself insane further, tearing his mind into pieces. But could he really make things worse? Did it really matter if he was just hastening the inevitable insanity? The painful flashes were burning his already inflamed and wounded mind like the white-hot iron. He could feel.

     Draco with his wand, pointed at Dumbledore; the blond had been crying. Gods, how cornered he'd been! The Dementor, nearly killing Sirius...

     The list seemed to be endless! Harry had lost so much that sometimes it seemed unbelievable. He'd been so broken and his heart was scarred all over. Maybe that was the reason he was going crazy? Why now? The pain threatened to squeeze the eyes out of his head. He was having a high fever, but he could hardly feel it. His nose was bleeding. Being half-conscious, he already couldn't lift his wand to cast another 'Rennervate'. And then again: the blond hair, so soft... Lean, pale body, beautiful from head to toes, his voice, the tenderness... 'I'm fucking crazy and I've been looking for you all the time, Draco. Looking for you in strangers... Looking for you everywhere. Anywhere... God, help me! Somebody, help...' Then there were some desultory thoughts and already meaningless flashbacks, and finally everything was gone...



     Harry woke up a day and a half later, though the time didn't matter. In the darkness of the basement he tried to put his thoughts in order, but failed. He didn't even know for how long his introspection had lasted. He couldn't remember anything clearly, he was sick and exhausted. His entire body was aching and he had fever. With great efforts he got out of the basement, cleaning his face from the dried blood, only because it felt uncomfortable. The light caused pain to his eyes and head. The whole house seemed unfamiliar at first. His only wish was to lie down. The way to the guest room was hard; he was slightly surprised that he found the way at all. He met Ginny on the stairs.

"Where have you been again? You don't even think that you make me worry. Ron and Hermione firecalled you more than ten times already," she said, trying not to raise her voice. He ignored her and walked past her, hardly understanding her words, hardly noticing her at all. She hadn't even noticed how ill he looked, thinking that he was just drunk again. Indeed, he looked like that. Several days ago Harry had asked her to give him time, and she didn't like it at all, but she didn't want to argue, believing that understanding would only place her in a good light. He'd said that he was doing it for her, for them. And still, his behaviour was frustrating. She wanted her Harry back... He couldn't leave her, that was for sure, and if he needed time to find his way out of depression, so they could be happy again, she had to give it to him.

     Harry fell asleep, once he'd reached the bed. When he woke up after some very odd, psychedelic dreams, his entire being was burning and his head was throbbing. Thankfully, there were some potions in the bathroom to subdue fever. It took him some time to read the labels and understand which one he needed. But it was hardly helpful. He filled the bathtub with the cold water and got into it. It was a little relaxing, but useless for his mental confusion. Everything was foggy. He fell asleep again, this time in the water, taking a safe position to make sure, he wouldn't slide down and drown. At least, he'd taken care about it. There were dreams again. They were chaotic and he couldn't understand anything. Some of them included the erotic content, but they were so unclear...

     Next time he woke up because of the cold. His body and his mind were numb. Half-conscious he returned to bed and wrapped his wet, cold body into the blanket. It wasn't helpful, since it seemed he was freezing inside. The cold was so intense that it almost burned him. The silence was deafening. Something was pulling him into oblivion and he was trying to fight it with varied success. Trapped between the wakefulness and sleep, he started to see visions of his past without any way to analyse them or concentrate on them at all. Finally, they led him to the moments, he would have rather forgotten. And it was much clearer than all the previous visions.

     Draco is looking into his eyes; his own grey eyes are full of sincere concern.

"Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure. Why?"

"I don't know... I just worry about you and... about us. You look so distant."

"I've already told you that there's nothing to worry about. I'm just a little tired." he almost snaps, irritation is clear in his voice. Harry's heart is beating faster, and yes, he's irritated, almost angry with the blond. Why? Maybe it's because Harry is lying and he knows it? Maybe it's because he's lying insolently, having a nerve to look right into Draco's eyes? Maybe it's because only an hour ago he was snogging with Ginny in the Gryffindor's common room?! Maybe it's because he keeps lying, saying that he is not avoiding Draco when, in fact, he is?!

"Sorry..." the blond whispers, piqued by Harry's annoyance.

'Oh, God, you have nothing to be sorry for...'

     Perhaps, Draco thinks he was annoying and that's why Harry is angry. It makes Harry calm down and he pacifies Draco with a soft kiss. It works every time, but Harry no longer puts his soul into it. It's just a way to shut Draco's mouth and make him stop worrying. It has become one of Harry's rare gifts, so it really works, because it nourishes Draco's hopes. But it is for the best right now.

     Harry doesn't even know why he still comes to Draco. Everything has changed and he doesn't know what he feels anymore. Everything's foggy; he doesn't know what to do, so he doesn't do anything and keeps lying. But he's afraid to cause pain (as if his coldness doesn't cause enough pain). Or he just wants to avoid arguing. He doesn't want to feel even guiltier. Or probably he even wants Draco to make a decision to break up and unburden Harry's conscience. But the blond doesn't seem to come to that decision even if the Gryffindor treats him like this. Where's his famous Malfoyish pride? What Harry has done to subdue it this efficiently, so Draco Malfoy turns a blind eye to his own humiliation? He's even stopped saying anything when Harry fails him, when Harry promises to visit him and doesn't come. Apparently, Draco is fine with being humiliated and fine with being unwanted. He can feel he's unwanted, can't he? Harry can tell that the blond doesn't really believe Harry's lies when Harry excuses himself, saying that he's busy or doesn't feel well, but Draco accepts it; he makes himself believe. Stubborn idiot keeps holding onto his stupid idea of 'them'.

     God, Harry was so utterly ashamed of himself right now. He was a liar, a traitor. He was a freak... How could he ever do all of it, think all of it? It had been simply... cruel.

     And then, two days later he fucks Ginny for the first time, only several hours after fucking Draco. Only then he truly decides to break up with the blond.

     Never in his life had he been more disappointed with himself. He deserved all the bad things that had happened to him, because he was a terrible person. Probably the life was fair to him, after all.

     Draco is smiling and holding him tight. But something is wrong. Harry frees himself from the embrace coldly. The smile disappears and there's a deep hurt in the grey eyes. Harry knows that he's been unfair lately. No, not just unfair; he's a bastard and a coward. And now he's leaving... He can almost feel the small shock waves from Draco's chest as the blonde's heart starts to beat faster in concern and painful anticipation. He knows, he feels...

     Harry knew what was about to happen, he tried to prevent it, but couldn't. It was the past that he couldn't change.

'No... Draco, don't let me say it.'

"I can't lie anymore. Something happened yesterday and... You need to know... I was with Ginny." Harry closes his eyes, because he can't look. He's shaking. "I'm so sorry. Draco, I... Look... I've got entangled. I need some time." Every word is unbearably hard to speak. There are other things he's saying, though he can't hear it, but he doesn't have to.

     He wanted to take his own words back, shove them back down his throat. But, alas... Just a memory.

"...Don't even try to explain it... You're a liar! The whole week I was asking you if something... was wrong, and you lied to me! You were fucking me, thinking about her!" Draco cries. Loudly. Every sob is piercing Harry's heart and mind, which is falling apart further and further with every painful sound. 'I can not be doing this! I couldn't... I would have never done it to Draco. And yet, that's exactly what I'm doing.' Other words from both of them and then the coldness... This is not a real coldness though. How much it costs Draco almost to take himself under control outwardly, when everything is obviously collapsing inside of him? Harry can't speak anymore, paralysed and helpless to stop this madness.

"We had fun, but it's over. You don't owe me anything."

'No, don't say that! It's not true... I know you don't mean it.'

     He knew it was the way it had really happened in the past when that talk had taken place (with the exception of his emotions), though he was surprised how detailed the memory was, more detailed than he'd ever remembered it. And if it had felt somehow wrong back then, when he'd been leaving Draco, now it was destroying Harry, tearing him apart. He'd been working with his memories to feel again, now he wanted it to stop. It was too much; just too much. He didn't want to feel this. However, it wasn't something he could control.

"...That's fine. I should have been realistic; you've always preferred Weasleys to me, so there's nothing new about it." Every word hurts them both. The words are cold, but Draco is crying inside and Harry is crying with him.

'...It can't be true. What's happening to us?'

"I should have known. What happened between two of us didn't mean anything, at any rate."

'It meant everything...'

"I was probably just another conquest to you, since, I believe, you've always been hers. Perhaps, I've lost everything and I'm just nobody, but surprisingly I still have some pride. I don't need any leftovers. Would you be so kind as to get the hell out of my room this instant?"

'No, Draco! Please, don't let me go like this! Don't let me go!' Desperately he tries to find control over his 'body'...

     ...Even if it was only a vision...

     ...It works. He tries to reach out his hands to Draco, to hold him tight. But every time he gets close, Draco seems more and more distant and unreal, like everything around. 'I can't lose you!'

     He screamed. A minute later he heard a concerned voice. It belonged to a young woman:

"Harry! Oh, Merlin, you're bleeding!" Ginny...

     He couldn't hear anything else, because he passed out.

     During the next two days Ginny was taking care of him, feeding him, helping him to drink, giving him potions to heal the fever and headaches, cleaning the blood that was occasionally running out of his nose and ears. Silently he was accepting her care. He felt numb. Obviously, he'd overstrained his mind and now was feeling more indifferent than ever. But it felt different than before his introspections. It was just a mental overload, a fatigue. When he was capable of thinking, he wondered if he'd damaged his mind permanently or something would change, once the illness and tiredness would pass. He once saw Draco, sitting on the edge of his bed and Harry's heart almost stopped. Draco's back was turned on him; his shoulders and head were lowered and he wasn't moving. Harry tried to touch him, but woke up. It had been just a dream (or another vision), very short one; the only dream he saw during his illness. When he felt much better (physically), he was still unbearably thirsty, like never in his life before, and drank as much water as he could take.

     He was thinking about Draco more and more often. Already strong enough to walk, he went up to the attic and found the boxes with the school things he no longer needed. There were a lot of school books. He knew where to look... The book on the History of Magic of the final year. There, between the pages, he found two photographs of the blond Slytherin. One of them had been taken last autumn, near the Forbidden Forest. He liked the picture. The blonde's wand was shedding light on them, making his own hair shine and glow. They were standing very close to each other and they were content... Harry gently traced Draco's aristocratic and soft features with his eyes. It seemed that walk had taken place so long ago. The other picture had been taken without Draco's knowing. The blond was sleeping on his stomach in bed, embracing the pillow. Naked. The blanket was only covering his lower body to the middle of his delicious bottom. Nice and erotic. Calm breathing was making his beautiful back move up and down softly. With the bitter smile Harry touched the body on the picture with his fingertips. 'How could I lose you? No... Not just lose you, I pushed you away and dug my own grave. I don't even know, why. Everything looks like I just used you and threw you away like some... garbage. It can't be true.' Tears escaped his eyes. 'I feel so bad without you, Draco...' It hurt, it hurt like hell.

     Harry had already spent many hours in the attic, reading a book which was Draco's gift; a book about the ancient castles. He was rather looking at the pictures than reading it. He'd read the entire book avidly long ago. Now he held it exceptionally dear, because it had belonged to Draco once. He treated a book like a treasure.

     Later he started to look at Ginny and think: 'Was it all worth it?' Had he really had to do something that everyone had expected from him, sacrificing everything else? Had he really had to start living together with Ginny, just not to disappoint his friends - Weasleys and especially his best friend Ron? For what? Just to make Ginny unhappy? On the other hand, was it a true reason at all? 'I'm a bastard. I've made two good people miserable; both Ginny and Draco... And that, of course, hasn't done me any good.' The only thing he knew was that he couldn't hurt Ginny anymore...

     It was a deep, sleepless night, half past two, when he approached the fireplace and firecalled Hermione and Ron in their new house. He waited for five minutes before he saw Ron's very sleepy face.

"Ron, I know it's late, I'm sorry, but I need to talk to you right now," Harry said.

"What happened?" Ron asked with concern. He had enough reasons to worry, since Harry hadn't answered his and Hermione's firecalls for a long time already, refusing to meet them, and they were also aware of his drinking problem. Ginny was silent and had never really explained anything of what was happening to their friend. Hermione found it very strange, and Ron shared her opinion. The privacy was a very normal thing, but Ginny's secrecy somehow felt odd. And now, all of a sudden, Harry finally firecalled.

"Could we meet somewhere?" he asked, leaving Ron's question unanswered.

"Of course. Should I wake up Mione?"

"No. There's no need to."

"Okay. Give me fifteen minutes."
- 15
- 16
- 17
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

To Find The Missing Lifeline