Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harco Empire	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
[Note: conversation =: “speech” & ‘thoughts’ & *telepathy* & #Parseltongue# & {telephone}]
(Genital torture)
~~~ COMMUNICATION ~~~
~~~ MALFOY MANOR ~~~
Draco awoke on Saturday morning when Sonny, his favourite elf, announced that his father wanted to see him. He showered and dressed quickly repairing to his father’s study.
“You have sixty-nine letters to write, Draconius. I have set aside a desk for you here and there is a list of presents and who gave them. You will start immediately after breakfast and I expect six paragraphs minimum in each letter.”
“Do I have to?”
“Don’t start that moaning thing with me, young man; you’ll do as you are told. Is that clear?”
Draco sighed: “Yes Father,” remembering the beating of the previous day.
Draco laboured unwillingly over his thank-you letters. He was bored out of his mind. Having decided on the various paragraphs he was going to use he chose any four from the twelve he had invented and one from the three forms of thank you. The hardest part was the supposed little personal touch at the end because he hardly knew any of the givers that well, if at all.
His Father was no help, criticising what he had written and demanding rewrites of one letter in every three. Draco kept stopping; daydreaming about his fights with Harry and his friends and wishing he could argue with his father like that. Then he’d sigh and start on the next paragraph. Some of his daydreams were sexy ones about a green eyed wizard. Other daydreams were about delectable Slytherin males in the showers after Quidditch. A couple of times Draco caught Lucius staring at him, so he hastily schooled his thoughts away from the showers and into the games preceding them.
“Stop daydreaming about Quidditch and apply yourself, Draconius!”
“Yes Father!” Draco was pleased he had altered his wandering mind, because he now had proof of his father’s legillimensing. As a result, he then started to recall his Godfather’s Occlumency exercises instead.
Only half way through his chore Draco stopped because it was dinner time. He had had a row with his father about his lack of progress and had a cane taken to his bare backside for being cheeky. All the way through the meal Draco squirmed uncomfortably as Lucius kept on criticising his son. A few times Narcissa managed to interrupt the tirade by introducing a new topic. But such was Lucius’s frame of mind that the topic was twisted into berating his son yet again. Draco seethed inside poking around at his food and eating little. Narcissa saw what was happening and, before Lucius could demand a return to letter writing, she claimed him to go out into the garden with her. Draco knew it was a pretext and smiled thankfully at his mother, before accompanying her outside.
“Do try and humour him, Draco. He has a lot on his mind at the moment.”
“I am trying, Mother, but he picks holes in almost every letter that I write.”
“Yes I know, Son. He’s doing very much the same with me.”
“Why do you put up with it then?”
“Because I have a duty of support towards him, that’s what being married is all about. Ours was an arranged marriage, as you know; both our families expected us to work together. It was fine at the beginning, but somehow he seems not to be trying any more. You go and walk off your ill temper in the garden; I know the peaceful plants will help your equilibrium.”
“Thank you, Mother … Yes, they will.” Draco wandered off into some of the more secluded parts of the vast estate.
No matter what he did, his backside stung and, without thinking Draco came across a bower that reminded him of an adventure of a few years back. To begin with the daydream was pleasant, but it soon turned darker. Draco was still very annoyed with his father and the irritation metamorphosed into anger at the green-eyed git for abandoning their interesting arrangement. Those thoughts, coupled with the stinging of his backside Draco’s boner started to grow so he decided to retire early to bed for the night. He squirmed when the welts touched the sheets beneath him, so he lay face down. The dreams of Hogwarts returned and in his repressed anger he thought of Potter and what he would like to do to him. He imagined Harry tied to the four pillars of his bed, lying face down and totally naked. Draco was beating him in much the same way that he had been beaten by his father.
Only this was different.
Dream-Harry was squirming on the bedclothes, and between his parted legs Draco could see a trapped penis pointing downwards. Every time Draco applied the cane, Harry would writhe and the engorgement would become more pronounced; its gleaming crimson producing little pearls of excitement.
In reality it was Draco who was squirming, and he soon had a full ejaculation into his sheets. Before he had time to clean up the mess his father marched into the room. The smell was unmistakable and Lucius came over to his heir placing hands on his head and legillimensing the fantasy from Draco’s unguarded mind.
“So! You still have feelings for Potter then? No son of mine should be dreaming of men at this age. I’ll have to deal with you severely for that. Expect your punishment to be severe. It will take place as soon as you finish those letters. Scourgify!”
Draco felt the mess clear up and then the cane came down. Only after Lucius had drawn blood, did he stop beating his son.
As before Narcissa came and applied the balm lotion.
~~~ SUNDAY ~~~
The only tingle Draco felt that Sunday morning was the one in his backside as he sat on a hard chair writing more letters of thanks to his father’s friends. He also daydreamed morosely about the kind of revenge his father’s punishment was going to take.
There were no happy feelings in Draco’s mind as he signed his name to the last letter and handed it to his male parent for perusal.
“You have improved your writing skills from the rejects I returned to you yesterday. However, I think your mind-set has not yet been improved.” Lucius gave the letter to a house owl to take to its recipient. “Maybe a visit to our cells will start you thinking on the correct lines. Incarcerous!”
Once he had been taken beneath the Manor, Draco was magically stripped and put into a cold stone cell. Lucius altered the Incarcerous to secure Draco’s limbs at their stretched extremities and retreated upstairs. Splayed face up Draco wondered what would happen next.
He did not have long to wait.
Lucius returned with a fizzing potion, drawing up a chair he used a paintbrush to thoroughly dye Draco’s genital area with the elixir. Nothing happened immediately apart from feeling very cold as it dried on his tender skin. Lucius checked his handiwork carefully.
“Maybe this will help you to reconsider your preferences.” Lucius slammed and locked the door leaving Draco in complete darkness.
Then the potion started to work. Draco’s balls started to smart, then they stung. The stinging turned to heat until Draco felt as if he had a bonfire sitting inside his gonads. Although not quite the same, it resembled the feeling from Voldemort’s ring. Part of the feeling was extremely sexy and his prick expanded to its fullest extent. Draco bit his tongue in order not to start screaming, trying not to give his father the knowledge of how terrible it felt.
Lucius knew what would happen, and the fact that his son would scream, so he had placed a Muffliato on the cell and retired to bed, nothing was going to disturb his sleep that night.
The conflagration between Draco’s legs grew in intensity, as did his need to ejaculate. He resisted as long as he could, but the feeling overcame his defences. What spurted forth was a tongue of fire. Draco screamed – not that it did any good. He passed out screaming and singeing the few hairs he had on his chest. He woke with the kobold applying a cooling unguent.
It looked crafty: “Don’t tell the Master, will you?”
Draco shook his head to imply that he would not.
~~~ MORNING ~~~
Draco woke, scorched and sore but not burning.
“Have you learned your lesson yet?” Lucius placed his hands on his son’s forehead.
Draco hastily thought of Pansy trying to imagine what she would look like undressed and aroused. Like all schoolboys he had peeped inquisitively into the girls’ dressing room at various times, so he had some images to call forth even if they were not sexually exciting. He concentrated hard on the images and whatever sexy feelings he could safely conjure.
“Well! It seems that you are trying. However I think I’ll reinforce your efforts once more.” The paint came out and was re-applied.
Lucius beat a hasty retreat and re-erected the Muffliato.
Draco started screaming almost immediately as the magical fire built up its intensity. He continued screaming whilst the kobold applied more cream. Somehow the dungeon master understood that the noise was to fool Lucius.
~~~ NOON ~~~
By lunchtime the screaming had died and Lucius descended to hand his clothes to Draco.
“Come and eat lunch. You’ve expended a lot of energy.”
Draco wanted to object, but without his wand he was powerless. So he put on a brave face and sat squirming in discomfort, forcing the food down his gullet.
~~~ THAT NIGHT ~~~
Despite his father’s depredations or maybe in spite of them Draco dreamed of Harry that night. He was cautious about letting his sex drive take over so he converted the fantasy into one of beating him at Quidditch. Then he thought of Granger and her books, something he could easily understand, this led on to some of the discussions they had had about ancient runes. Both of them were quite fanatical about the subject.
As Draco had expected; his father visited, the legillimensing hands only picked up a female image. So Paterfamilias retired mollified.
~~~ THE BURROW ~~~
Sunday 5^th July had a hearty gathering at the Burrow. The Unspeakables had cleared all the curses and the combined family had repaired the burnt items. So in a haze of new paint and old ashes they had a house warming party. The Weasleys were there, as were Harry, Hermione and her parents. Luna and her father came plus a couple more magely families who lived nearby.
In the mid-afternoon of the following Monday Harry went the Ministry to make his final statement about the battle at school and to obtain his apparating licence. He also needed official recognition of his ability to practice magic lawfully; because both licences had been missed in the lead up to Voldemort’s death. He also went to see the Wizengamot clerk, asking for his apologies to be recorded at the next meeting.
“The Wizengamot is in recess until September, Seneschal Potter/Black, as usual.”
“I hadn’t realised; are there other holidays then?”
“Yes, at Christmas and we avoid Easter and Beltane week meetings as well. Oh, and if the Hogwarts express runs on a Saturday that effects the attendance. Here is a list of meetings planned for the next twelve months.”
“Thanks, I’ll book them in my diary.”
His next port of call was to Grimmauld Place, where he stopped for the night. Harry apparated on to the step, but instead of going in he had a look from the outside. The first thing he noticed was the absence of Number Twelve; now he was clear of it. He knew where it should be; in the corner between numbers eleven and thirteen. Where he knew it was, was an angled wall. The frontages of the next door houses were set at right-angles to each other; forming the corner of the square. Where his door should have been was an angled wall which, when he investigated, he found to be a glamour. He realised that most of his house was in the corner with all its main windows facing away from the square. The glamour, when it operated seemed to push out from the middle, rather like two curtains being drawn apart. This gave the effect of pushing the two houses apart without actually doing so.
Another thing that was curious was that although the numbers were on the doors every house was named alphabetically after a saint. There being twenty-seven houses number one was named ‘All Saints’ number two being ‘Andrew’. Harry also noticed another three corner houses which were not visible. However, their number and alphabetical saint was missing from the sequence. They were ‘5 & D’ ‘12 & K’ ‘19 & R’ ’26 & Y’. This also meant that the entrance to the square was not centred, but between ‘1 All Saints’ and ‘27 Zachary’. This was an archway with some kind of ecclesiastical building on top; judging by the shape of the windows. Having wasted enough time looking round Grimmauld Place, Harry went to his doorstep and found that his saint was ‘Kevin’. As he stood on the step the door opened and there stood Kreacher.
Kreacher was very pleased to see his new master and wanted to show Harry around the newly cleaned parts of the house. That suited Harry because he had not really explored everywhere. In fact, new rooms had appeared, it seems that the Order had only used a small amount of the available accommodation. In the basement Kreacher had made a much more presentable place for himself and his helpers next door to the stairs. The familiar kitchen was on this floor as were two large storerooms. Although underground at the front the ground sloped away so that the back-door in the kitchen led out into a small paved back-yard. This and the kitchen looked spick and span; quite obviously fit for purpose. Quite obviously the elf was starting to take a pride in the building and in his own personal hygiene – something that had not been noticeable before the locket had been given. Harry felt, however, that there was a long way to go, including getting something better for Kreacher to wear. The elf had washed the garment but it had some rather embarrassing holes in it.
The ground floor had the newly revealed dining room which had windows on two sides and also doubled as a ballroom. This could be divided off to make a more intimate setting. The room overawed Harry and he wondered what use he could put to it; even imagining it empty and used like the room of requirement when he was training his army. At the front, on one side of the ballroom, there was a comfortable room with easy chairs, which Kreacher called the withdrawing room.
The first floor had the library on one side of the hall partly above the ballroom. Kreacher explained that the accommodation on this floor were the ‘Family rooms’. The room with the tapestry in it was situated over the withdrawing room and had, at one time, been called the morning room. Next door to that and taking in the corner of the house’s frontage was the boudoir, a place that Molly had shunned because of the evil artefacts contained therein. It was a room that Kreacher had not touched either – the walls seemed to gloat; as though waiting to eat up anyone who relaxed there. Harry shuddered and rapidly closed the door. Above that room was the chamber that Ginevra and Hermione shared. This felt welcoming and a window box of flowers graced the sill. Harry could now imagine himself staying there.
The next two floors had three double bedrooms each – two at the back and one at the front plus an equivalent one the Ginevra’s and Hermione’s bedroom. – Not all of them had been decontaminated. Harry was surprised that each room was en-suite and surmised, by the look of the plumbing, that the Blacks had modernised their house in the nineteen-thirties period. He also wondered if Sirius had had sisters who could have had rooms there as well as their parents in the master suite. Thus there would be a family floor and a guest floor above that.
Within the top floor, partly inside the eves, were what had been Sirius’s room; outside of which was a flat roof with a bedraggled set of flower boxes. Harry thought that it might be turned into a quiet roof-top garden – Imagining the one at the Leakey Cauldron. A pleasant area which he would be able to see from his bedroom; because he fully intended using Sirius’s old room as his own when he was in London. He looked over the parapet at the back garden – more of a paved yard really, and was surprised to see that beyond the back boundary wall was a canal.
When he mentioned it to Kreacher, the old elf ignored the water and grizzled that the hippogriff had ruined the place. However, Kreacher said he would try to make it look better. There ensued an altercation because the elf thought the master should occupy the main suite and tried a number of arguments to persuade Harry. However, the Gryff stayed firm; saying that he wanted to be well out of the hustle and bustle that Grimmauld Place was likely to become if the Order intended still using it as their headquarters.
Back on the ground floor Harry realised that there should have been an equivalent chamber beneath the library. In the place where he thought the door should have been hung Walburga’s portrait. He really did not feel like arguing with her just at the moment, but he did quietly enquire from his house-elf.
“It used to be the Master’s Solar,” Kreacher exclaimed, staring grumpily at the portrait’s curtains: “Is that how you might want it to be, Master?”
“Perhaps you had better tell me what a solar is?”
“A sort of study, cum estate office; somewhere where the Mistress was not allowed. The Mistress’s private area is the boudoir. The Solar had deep comfortable leather chairs and a beautifully carved escritoire too.”
Harry thought for a moment and realised that his elf meant some kind of a desk. He also got the feeling that Kreacher was hinting that it should return to its former use: “Fine, I rather like the idea of a snug office with deep armchairs. Although I don’t fancy letting Walburga shout at me.”
Kreacher gave a little jump and beamed at his master: “Maybe she won’t anymore.”
“I think I’ll not risk it, at the moment, thank you.”
Kreacher’s ears drooped and Harry was almost tempted to brave an argument with Walburga. Despite his disappointment, Kreacher found some tea and a delicious fruit cake for Harry’s tea.
~~~ BURROW ~~~
On his return to the Burrow on the Thursday 9th, Ginevra was in a prolonged peculiar mood, not wanting to communicate with Harry. Probably because he had indicated his need to wait and sort himself out. Even so he sensed something in her demeanour suggesting that she also wanted time. So, late in the afternoon he considered going after his birthday to see his partly finished new home and maybe stay there. Harry knew that Hermione and Ronald wanted to rehabilitate Hermione’s parents first, and he suspected that they would like to be alone during the most of August, therefore he tactfully departed quietly.
He was relieved that he would be by himself, really; because now the pressure to kill Voldemort had gone, he was beginning to crystallise his attraction to other adolescent men, not Ronald, but Seamus and Dean appeared quite attractive, not that he had done anything more about it. Not forgetting his two dalliances with Draco. He had found out that their intense sexual marathon of a year ago had cancelled out his geas and wondered if it had done the same for the blond. Harry was hoping to have some quiet time to himself in order to sort out his feelings.
A week later, on a Saturday in the middle of July, the Dursleys were surprised; Molly and Arthur apparated to Privet Drive in order to ask them to come to Harry’s eighteenth birthday party. Arthur apologised for knocking their hearth about and cast a ‘Reparo’ on it. The Dursleys were less surprised than earlier because they had seen quite a few charms cast whilst sheltered and, for that matter, a few hexes and curses.
On the day, they were more surprised when they were side-along-apparated and greatly surprised at the shambolic house where the Weasleys lived. Nevertheless, the happy family atmosphere helped them quickly recover. It was a big show; everyone wanted to be invited; so many of the guests were accommodated in magical tents surrounding the great marquee set up in the field next door. Again the Dursleys were surprised at the numbers of Harry’s well-wishers.
It was Harry’s turn to be surprised next. His present from Dudley was a big four-poster bed, ornately carved and hung with Gryffindor colours. Uncle Vernon added to this gift by giving a matching wardrobe and dressing-table set. Hermione quietly said afterwards, that Harry should take them to the Antiques Roadshow, as she was sure they were extremely valuable. Aunt Petunia’s gifts were matching window curtains and counterpanes, plus all the usual bed linen and all the extras to cover washing, wearing out, etc.
Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived in the afternoon, accompanied by representatives from the Wizengamot. Apart from speeches, Harry was presented with a gold medal as Commander of the Order of Merlin. “That’s higher than first-class.” Kingsley whispered during the prolonged applause. He also reminded him of his duties as a seneschal by right, being both head of House Potter and head of House Black.
That presentation impressed the Dursley family too, confirming their change of heart.
The fuss decided Harry; he had to be somewhere that he called his own, where he could hide if he wanted to, and receive the guests that only he wanted to invite. Grimmauld Place did not appeal, being too near the Ministry for comfort and still seemed to be the headquarters of the remaining Order. He had stayed there whilst attending all the official receptions and obsequies and he felt he wanted to relax. So, after the party and seeing that his calendar had few meetings booked, he told Ronald and Hermione that he would be going to Godric’s Hollow on the Saturday
~~~ AUGUST 1998 ~~~ CHANTRY COTTAGE ~~~
Harry knew of a quiet place where he might safely apparate and then walk along a path to the village. Imagine his surprise when he arrived in Almoners Row to find that, what he thought would be a partly finished cottage, was already whole and freshly painted. He checked that he was looking at the correct site; sure enough this was Chantry Cottage and, as he approached the entrance, the commemorative sign rose to greet him. He opened the gate and walked towards the door fumbling for the keys. It took a minute whilst he tried various keys in the lock before he found the correct one. Opening that door, he found himself in a small entrance portico overlooking a sunken garden, however he needed no keys to open the inner front door. As he walked in he thought he heard someone inside so, drawing his wand, he cautiously opened the door into the ‘L’ shaped living room.
There stood Neville, wand in hand.
“Hi Harry, Herms told us you were coming, so we thought we’d better be here to welcome you.”
“Hello Neville, you almost got hexed, you know.”
“I was holding a shield, just in case.”
“So who’s we?”
Neville stood aside to reveal Blaise, Justin, Seamus and Dean. Each had a glass in their hand and chorused: “WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME, HARRY.”
Harry smiled as Neville offered him a drink also: “And here I was thinking I would have a quiet weekend to myself.”
Neville looked serious: “We’ll go if you like. There are rooms ready at the Mill, that’s Grandma’s place you know.”
Harry laughed: “I was only joshing, Nev,” Harry sat in a vacant chair: “Maybe someone could explain why you’re all here? Does anyone know what happened to Blondie?”
“We thought you knew where Blondie was. As for us that’s easy, Harry,” said Dean: “We’ve been working on your cottage as your birthday present from us all. That is the group and all the Dumbledorians, of course. Nev and Zappem have had a go at the garden, whilst Juicy, Irish and I did the house up.”
“Um … I thought I had employed a muggle builder to do that.”
“He was just a front, Harry. Your money paid for the materials but we supplied the labour. He’s retiring to Spain and has given up the builder’s yard he rented from the authorities. We’re thinking of taking it over if we can afford it.”
“So I owe you all some wages, do I?”
“No way,” Seamus scoffed: “Like we said it’s a birthday present. We got ter practice all those things we learned when rebuilding Hogwarts, Dusky’s a dab hand at inventing new building charms. Only yours were more domestic than the grand things we learned repairing the academy during the last couple of months. Juicy likes painting too.”
Blaise looked mischievous: “We laboured whilst you were enjoying all those banquets and balls.”
Harry pretended to be seriously hurt: “I’ll have you know that I’d rather have been rebuilding Hogwarts …”
“… He’s only pulling your leg, Harry,” explained Justin, rising to Harry's bait: “We know that you wanted out, but Herms strong armed you into ‘doing your duty’. I admire you three for trying to heal the rifts in our society and for the equality legislation, too. That’s why Kreacher and some elves volunteered to do up Grimmauld Place whilst we worked on your cottage.”
“Would you believe it, the goblins also chipped in with a grant from Gringotts? So it’ll cost yer much less than yer thought,” added Seamus: “Care ter inspect yer new home, Mr Potter, before we start on dinner?”
“Why not, I’d love to see my new house.”
“Shall we start downstairs then?”
“Fine!”
Harry found out that the floor he was on contained the ‘L’ shaped living room and the kitchen; between which were two sets of stairs one above the other. The lower one went from this room, whilst the upper on started in the hallway. They went down first.
Because the land sloped, the basement contained two rooms overlooking the tree-lined lower garden he had seen on entry. Its length was divided roughly in half by a path following a gurgling stream. One side had a lawn and the other a small kitchen garden. Immediately at the rear of the house was a semi-circular paved area off which was an outside set of steps leading up to the front door porch. The path led down to a small hedge-screened circular apparating area, next door to which an apparently tumble-down bothy stood. The whole was enclosed by a thick evergreen hedge.
“We’ve been staying at Gran’s,” Neville explained: “Your family cabinet in there connects with Longbottom Mill, so it was easy to come and go." Neville pointed to an ivy covered bothy: "Three of us can make one transit at a time, so that means two trips.”
They had a look inside the glamoured bothy, at the vanishing cabinet and the small room there. Returning to the main house Harry found the larger of the two downstairs rooms made up a study with bookshelves and a desk overlooking the lawn. The other room was a store.
They climbed the outside steps into the entrance portico and in through the inner front door. This time they went up the over staircase which led off the small entrance hall. There was an ‘L’ shaped landing off which were three ensuite bedrooms. One contained the bed which Harry had been given, another had a double bed and the last one had two sets of bunks. The landing had a return narrow twisting staircase leading up to an observation platform set partly into the attic area so that only the windows showed above the roofline. Harry realised that this was almost square and built around the central chimney which was wide enough to provide ample floo possibilities. Here was the owl entrance situated.
They retraced their steps to the living room and then went out through the french-windows into the front garden. Because of the lie of the land this was one storey higher than the other garden and consisted of a large lawn with a square paved patio next to the house. There was a screen of thick thorny evergreen hedge around the outside and a colourful border of flowers on the inside. The return of the rebuilt barn, which faced the road almost masking the cottage itself, provided shelter for the patio as well. Set into the barn’s wall were three almost naked statues in the roman style, and two steps led down to the lawn. Seamus touched the middle statue and a doorway opened up.
“We used this as a workshop, Harry, so’s it’s a bit of a mess.”
Harry looked inside; it was bigger than the dining/ballroom at Grimmauld Place, but had low beams. There were some enormous garage type doors and a number of skylights too.
Back in the garden Blaise noted Harry scrutinising the hedge: “It’s an absolute bugger to trim. We had to do it the muggle way because Chantry Lane runs on the other side. I can assure you that no-one will be able to see through it because hidden under all the foliage is and ancient six-foot-high wall.”
“So what about wards?”
“A big oval one covers the whole property plus the gardens. Its tholus terminates just below the chimney at the moment and is fairly rudimentary. That’s where you come in. You’re better at setting those things, but we’ll help with the earth-thaum anchorages etc.”
“Fine … I’ll make a start after we’ve eaten. I suspect we’ll not want an audience when we do them.”
“It’ll have to be later than sooner, Chantry Lane is the local lover’s lane, but the lower garden can be done in the light.”
“What about the sloping waste ground between the upper and lower gardens?”
“Well …” Seamus looked hopeful: “We hoped ter persuade yer to make it inter a swimming pool. There’s ample water coming down the stream and if we could roof it over it would balance the barn on t’other side … Erm … Then we might just glass over this patio. Nobody would see it from the lane.”
“What about from the wood on the other side?”
“It appears, Harry, that that belongs to the cottage,” Neville informed him: “There’s lots of magical plants growing under the trees and in the open patches. Zappem and I intend to make a survey when we have time. The thorn hedge and wall continue right round the outside, but we’ve left that alone for the moment. It’s nigh on impenetrable and much higher. I reckon that, a couple of years ago, someone had a go at the hedge beside the lane where it overhangs.”
“There’s a ruin in the middle of the wood,” Blaise supplied: “Looks like an old temple or hermit’s bothy. It’s located beside a largish pool with a waterfall. That’s where the stream comes from, but the waterfall is probably fed mainly from Blake Tarn, under Niggle Edge over there, not too far outside your property. We suspect it’s fed by underground water because we’re on the edge of limestone country.”
“Fine … I’m getting hungry…”
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