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Therapy of Words	By : Sealpotter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1944 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters associated with the books/movies and I never have and never will make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Therapy of Words
- 1
Harry laid back in the bushes at Number 4 Privet Drive, frustrated yet again that no one had written him. Did no one even care that Cedric had died? Did no one believe him that Voldemort had finally returned? Harry was going mad, Hermione did not seem to care or give any hint of talking about what had happened. Ron only wrote about his father's experiments and Quidditch. Harry was close to bursting with rage at the insanity of it all. All around him was normal and peaceful, but inside he was screaming and chaos reigned in his head.

Once more he trudged up to his room, discounting the glares the Dursley's gave him. He was so completely beside himself with rage and wracked with guilt that his hand shook as he reached for the doorknob of his room. Once he was inside he felt a small breeze coming from his now open window. Slowly he approached it as if it would burn him and reached for the latch to shut it. He had not remembered leaving it open. A soft trill of a small owl came from his left and he nearly jumped. This was not an owl he had recognized. Maybe it was from Dumbledore. Or better Sirius.

Harry approached the small owl and reached for the bit of parchment it had tied to its leg and detached it. He reached towards his desk and pulled out the drawer that held his owl treats and let the bird have one. It nibbled on it but did not immediately fly away. This puzzled Harry as most of his acquaintances had owls that left and he would reply via Hedwig. Slowly he broke the seal of the letter and began to read. News! His first real piece of News!

Harry,

It has come to my attention that you have been severely uninformed of the happenings around our world since you departed Hogwarts. I have taken it upon myself to give you what I know you need. I have often observed that you are less reckless if informed. Something many who surround you does not seem to grasp.

First, let me extend my sympathies for what you must be feeling over Cedric's death. It was kind and brave of you to bring his body back to his father. I could never imagine that I could be that brave. Seeing you that day, broke something in me, and I wish to find a way to make amends. So I am reaching out as a friend if you so wish to call me that.

Since your departure, there have been many raids on the town of Hogsmeade and a few muggle settlements within London Proper. I have been lucky as to not have been witness to any of them. The Ministry it seems has been working with various Muggle entities to cover any trace of the actions set in motion by the rise of the Dark Lord. I for one am at a loss as to why they would do so. Vigilance, forgive the reminder, is key in this time. I would also like to tell you that your friends are well, all of them. So far no one that I know you hold close has been affected by the return.

If you would like to communicate further, please send word via my owl Tiendrea. She will ensure I get them, and that they cannot be traced back to you.

Your Friend.

Harry read the letter again several more times. He turned it over and looked a the seal hoping for some explanation of who sent the letter. There was nothing, no hint. The handwriting itself was unfamiliar to him as well, but it was a nice script. Not quite a purely feminine hand, but not a scrawl like his and Ron's. Harry folded up the letter and put it in his top drawer. He sat down at his desk and tapped his mouth with his quill... What did he want to know?

Dear Friend,

Who are you?

Thank you for getting me some information. I feel like I am about to go batty. I am not sure why no one other than you feel that I deserve answers. Thank you for your sympathies. I know I did not know Cedric that well, but honestly, I feel responsible. I hadn't told anyone this... but it was my suggestion that we take the cup together. If I hadn't, and completed everything as I should have alone, he would still be alive. That is something that plagues me every night.

I really shouldn't bore you with that. Sorry. I would like to know if the Ministry is actively trying to stop the raids. Are they being proactive or just reactive? Any hint of the movements making any patterns? Is it just the Death Eaters or has He developed a following? I know I'm asking too much, but those are the questions that are going on in my head and driving me batty.

Thank you again. Please keep writing. I have to go and make dinner for the Dursley's. But I look forward to your next letter. I need a lifeline.

HP

Harry tied the parchment to the small owl's leg and she was off and soaring before he could blink. Harry sighed and stretched out on his bed. It was the first time in what felt like forever that he felt ok. He still wondered who wrote the letter, but in a way, he was just happy he got one. Harry nodded off to sleep and for the first time in months, it was peaceful. Until his Uncle pounded up the stairs to wake him with a flurry of fists since dinner was late.

When Harry finally went to go to bed, he was hurting badly. His uncle would not even let him clean his bloody nose until dinner had been served. After serving dinner and then cleaning up, he had been told to go to bed. Freaks who were lazy got no dinner. Harry sulked up the stairs wishing he could go somewhere... anywhere but here. When he opened his door, He smiled at the small owl that was back. He grabbed a treat and handed it off to the owl while gently tearing into the letter. He was almost giddy that the letter came so soon.

He turned on his lamp and opened the letter and soaked up each word.

Harry,

Please, feel free to write to me about anything. I am always willing to listen. That is what friends are for. I am glad you shared with me. You are not responsible for Cedric's death, no matter what happened with the cup. You could not have known or stopped what happened unless you were informed. If you had the information, I am sure you would have made a different choice. Those who would not have chosen differently would be responsible.

I have not seen any patterns in the movement of the darker forces. But from what information I am privy to, the Ministry is purely reactive right now. It's almost as if they do not see a problem, as if they are blind. I will see if I can get more information to answer your further questions.

Now I am curious why are you preparing dinner? Doesn't your elf do that?

Of course, I will continue to write. No matter what, I will write back unless dire straights force me not to. In a way, you are my lifeline as well.

Take Care,

Your Friend.

Harry was still perplexed as to who was writing him, but evidently, his question was ignored on purpose. He did not need to know the identity, He was just elated for a connection.

He opened another sheet of parchment to write back. He quickly grabbed a tissue to blot his nose before writing, not paying attention to the few drops that had already fallen on the parchment.

Dear Friend,

I often feel bad talking about what I feel. No one usually listens. But if you are willing... Here goes.

I think I would have felt guilty had it been anyone with me in that graveyard. The Dark Lord only wanted me and my blood. I feel like I should have been able to do something to prevent Peter Pettigrew from capturing me and getting my blood. I just don't know what it is I could have done to save Cedric or our world from the mess that has been made. This Dark Lord has been after me since I was born and I don't know why. Just because my parents fought against him, was no reason to target a baby. In all these years, I just wish he had succeeded. I am tired of battling him year after year, tired of battling my family for a shred of dignity, food or a scrap of comfort. Tired of having to always be told I am too young to know anything but expected to figure out how to deal with everything without the information. I am tired of having friends that cave to the wishes of the Older wizards when we see what is right vs what is wrong. Tired of having to fight for every minute of my life to move forward and free myself from the oppression that is this life. I am just plain tired. Tired of feeling like I have all the responsibility and none of the rewards of a life well done. I know I am not that smart, and that I am a burden on those who know me. I just need a chance to be able to care for myself and then no one has to bother.

I think I have a small tiny clue as to a hint of who you are... definitely not muggle born... Or else you would know that muggles do not have house elves. My Aunt and Uncle expect me to earn my place here by cooking the meals, cleaning the house, and doing the yard work. It's not so bad I only get hit if I don't get things done in time now. It's better than it was. Once I am done with the Dursleys, I will never come back. I just wish I didn't have to stay because of some stupid blood ward. There has got to be a better place than here.

I am rambling again... Sorry. I know you said to write anything, but I hope I haven't scared you off.

Your Friend - HP

Harry rolled up the letter and tied it back to the small owl and sent it off.

After three days Harry was beside himself again. He had heard nothing from anyone, not even the secret friend. He was frustrated again, He went over every last word again and despite himself, he couldn't think of how he had offended anyone. He went over his acquaintances at school and still, nothing came to him on if it could be any one of them, how had he said something that made them not want to write back.

It wasn't until Harry re-read his previous letters that it finally clicked. "dire straits" He had to hold onto that hope that something, not his words, was holding the friend back from writing. He was still frustrated, but now his stomach eased enough to allow him to eat something.

Harry opened the icebox in the kitchen and settled on a slice of leftover ham from the day before. As he was plating the ham, he and the ham were sent into the counter, his stomach taking the brunt of the corner. He felt the meaty hand of his Uncle grasp his hair and screamed as his face was slammed into the counter, causing his nose to bleed once again. A portion of the plate was dipped up as his face was planted on it.

"What are you doing boy! Getting into the food without permission! You know you can't eat until after supper!" Vernon shouted, his spit slinging everywhere including the back of Harry's neck.

A loud knock came to the front door. Vernon roughly shoved Harry down to the floor in a matter of moments. "Stay out of sight!" he whispered hoarsely.

Harry heard his uncle walk to the door and open it.

"What can I do for you, Constable?" Vernon asked the person at the door.

Harry flinched. He knew that he had done nothing to draw the attention of the police at all, but he wouldn't put it past Dudley to accuse him of something Dudley did.

"I need to speak to you about an urgent matter, Can I come in?" The voice was not too harsh or quiet, but commanding.

"Of course, sir." His uncle simpered.

"I prefer to discuss this in the kitchen, please." The other man's voice sounded strained.

"But... The living room is better for sitting." Vernon's voice squeaked.

Harry didn't know what to do. There was no exit except out into the hall past the dining room and living room. He was stuck where he was until the constable left.

"I insist... I am a bit parched and need a glass of water first." The Constable argued.

Harry heard their footsteps grow closer and could now tell that the other man was on the other side of the counter with Vernon close behind.

"Of course, I can get you a glass... Wait!" Vernon shrieked.

Harry cringed down further as the man stepped around the counter to get to the sink and looked down at him.

The constable stopped mid-step took in Harry's appearance and looked at Vernon.

"Don't move," the constable said as he reached for his stick.

"That boy wasn't listing... it's my right as his guardian to discipline him!" Vernon spouted.

"Discipline is one thing. Bloodying a person is another! I had hoped that the reports were just fabrications. You are coming with me, Mr. Dursley..." He then looked at Harry. "I will be sending for special transportation for you young man."

Harry nodded but didn't move.

The officer handcuffed his uncle and pushed the bulky man out the door while his uncle shouted the whole time

The officer came back to the house a few minutes later, Harry had not moved. He did not know what to do. He could not leave the house, or so Dumbledore had told him. But he did not want to be hit anymore. But how would he get back to school in a few weeks time, muggle foster homes were not good either. He didn't know what to do anymore.

"Come, my boy, let's get you cleaned up before the bus arrives." The constable stated.

"Bus?" Harry asked he did not know the police used a bus.

"You don't know?" The constable seemed perplexed, then smiled. "I am a Ministry liaison for the Muggle Police. We got a report of abuse yesterday morning and I had to get all the paperwork transferred to Muggle paperwork for review. I am sorry it took some time. I will be transporting you to a transition home until things can be sorted."

Harry blinked up at the man... He almost cried with relief. The man held out his hand and helped Harry stand. He pulled out a wand and cast a few charms. Harry's nose stopped bleeding and his head no longer felt bruised.

"There now... come with me... The Muggle police have already removed your guardian." He said.

Harry followed the man out into the hall and watched as the man waved his wand without saying a word and an elf with a hat appeared.

"Gather everything with Mr. Potter's DNA on it. Personal items will be delivered to his away home, and evidence will be delivered to the Auror's office for investigation and cataloging." The constable stated. The elf nodded and disappeared.

Just then a sleek black owl came sailing through the open door. The constable plucked the parchment from the leg. He opened it and immediately perused the letter.

"Hmm... Where is your Aunt Harry?" The man asked.

"Shopping," Harry stated.

The man nodded. He shuffled Harry out of the house and onto a smaller version of the knight bus. This one was black and had the Ministry of Magic logo on the Mirror. Harry stepped on and was ushered to a very comfortable looking seat. It looked to be covered in a fur of some kind.

The bus seemed much smaller on the inside than it looked on the outside. That was strange for most of the things Harry knew of the wizarding world. Usually, it was the opposite, larger on the inside than outside. Harry peered at the man that took a seat next to him.

“My Aunt was not as bad as Uncle Vernon,” Harry stated. He did not like his aunt, but he did not want her getting into trouble for what his uncle did.

“Harry, If your aunt witnessed or condoned the actions in any way that makes her just as responsible.” The man said.

“What is your name?” Harry asked finally realizing he had never asked.

“Gunter Fletcher, at your service.” The man said as he held out his hand.

Harry took it hesitantly and shook. He looked away out the window, but only saw streaks of reds and yellows as they moved fast. He did not have any idea where they were going. He did not really care. Over the last week or so, He did not even care if he went to the burrow anymore. He was very tired, it was as if all his will to fight had left him. So much struggling with his anger and his situation in life and now he felt drained. The simple act of removing him from that place seemed to drain so much out of him. He let the colors lull him into a fitful sleep.

Harry felt a gentle hand push at his shoulder as he came out of his sleep groggily. He felt even more worn than when he closed his eyes.

“Harry, we are here. The house is only temporary until the paperwork and investigation are complete. Then we will discuss your options.” Gunter stated.

Harry looked at the man, really seeing him this time. He was kind, his soft brown eyes held compassion, and his smile was very reassuring. His short brown hair swayed as he moved around the bus gathering some documents and putting them into his briefcase. The man was a head or two taller than him but did not seem overbearing. He turned and gestured towards the door for Harry to exit. Harry stepped off the bus and took in the view and smiled. It looked like a little stone cottage from a book. The grass was the most brilliant green he had ever seen, and there were soft tendrils of grey smoke coming from the chimney. The door to the cottage opened and a portly woman with silvery grey hair came out and smiled. She looked like the picture of every grandma that was ever regaled in every book. Harry could feel her warmth and kindness from several feet away.

“You must be my new charge. Harry, so nice to have you… come in… I have some tea and biscuits for you, and supper will be ready in an hour...It’s nothing extraordinary just some stew and bread, but it will be hearty.” She smiled as she waved him over to her.

Gunter ushered him towards the nice woman and followed behind Harry as they entered the small cottage. Again Harry was shocked, it wasn’t a large place, but exactly as the size should be from the outside. It was warm and comfortable, the stones did not feel cold or dark. There was a small kitchen, a little round table for eating, two chairs by a fire, a door that led to what might be a bedroom and another that was open to a small bath. Next to that was a ladder that led to a loft. That was it. Small and cozy… and Harry loved it. He smiled as he turned around in circles letting the warmth and comfort of the place seep into him. After a minute or two, he opened his eyes to see two faces smiling back at him. They were not mocking, just amused.

“Come, Harry, sit down. I’ll get the tea while Mr. Fletcher goes over everything with you.” She said and went into the kitchen and started plating the tea and biscuits.

Harry sat in one of the nice armchairs feeling overwhelmed by the comfort of it all.

“This is Respite Manor, Harry. Many abused witches and wizards have passed through here just as you are” Gunter started to explain.

“A manor?” Harry asked, looking around.

Gunter smiled and chuckled. “Well, evidently you don’t feel comfortable in a big space.”

Harry looked at the man.

“The bus and the manor are under compassion charms and others that allow them to form into spaces that make you comfortable,” Gunter explained.

Harry looked around and smiled, the charms worked well then. Then he felt guilty. What if that kind lady did not like small spaces. He cast a guilty glance at the lady.

“Don’t worry Harry, Mrs. Gentry is fine. She is used to the shifting nature of this manor.” Gunter said, noting the worried look in Harry’s eyes.

Harry nodded and turned back to Gunter.

“So, You will stay here until the paperwork is in order.” Gunter opened a piece of paper that he had been holding and smiled.”I was made aware of certain wards that were on your guardian’s house, thankfully, that will extend here since I was able to have your aunt willingly sign temporary documents to include this house as her home as well.”

Harry had forgotten about the wards for a moment in his relief and freedom.

“Your things are in the loft, as that was where your bed appeared. Anything you need, feel free to ask Mrs. Gentry. You may traverse the grounds, but until all the paperwork is final, please do not try to leave the property. There is a broom to fly, and if you need of anything to make you comfortable the manor will provide.” Gunter said as he stood. “Good luck, Mr. Potter I will be seeing you soon.”

Harry stood and shook the man’s hand and watched as the man left out the front door. Mrs. Gentry came in and placed the tea tray on the coffee table and handed Harry a cup.

Harry took it as he sat back down. The tea washed over him in a soothing manner.

They ate in silence, Harry just content to be in the company of someone not berating him. Mrs. Gentry seemed to read what he needed and did not pry or force uncomfortable conversations. They even ate dinner in a nice silence, only once or twice did she ask how he liked the stew. Harry didn’t lie, it was delicious and so filling. He climbed the ladder to the loft after dinner, content to lay down. He was surprised to find a desk, a comfortable bed, and a standing wardrobe fit into the space. A door on the wall, where it shouldn’t be intrigued him. He walked over to it and it opened into one of the most opulent bathrooms he had ever seen. A large soaking tub and brass candelabras. A window next to the bath that allowed him to look out onto the rolling grass. He was amazed, he had never felt so lucky in all his life as he did right now. He closed the door, turned on the bath and poured some liquid soap that he found into it. The bubbles looked luxurious. He shucked his clothing and slid under the bubbles exhaling loudly as the heat soaked into him. He could forget the entire world here.

A tapping at the window woke him a bit. His heart raced when he noticed the small owl from his friend there. He reached to let it in and felt sorry he did not have any treats for it. So he tried petting it and it seemed to really enjoy that. He took the letter and opened it with shaky fingers.

Harry,

I am sorry I was unable to write to you sooner, I wanted to write to you immediately the other day. I have been informed my concerns are taken care of.

I could not stand by and read your letter with blood on it and do nothing. There is no excuse for anyone to hit you. You must know that what they were doing was wrong. I know you don’t know who I am, and probably don’t think I have a right to interfere, but I could not sit for one second, knowing you were in pain. I hope you are safe now. All that matters to me, is that you are safe.

More raids are still going on, especially in London now. The ministry is hushing those up as usual. I am glad you are moved because I found out that there was a plan to send Dementors to your house. I could not bear it if they got to you, I know how badly they affect you. NO, that is not a weakness… Everyone is affected in terrible ways, even if they do not show it. I must go, but also beware, there are some at the ministry who are waiting for you to mess up somehow. Don’t give them any reason to expel you.
Yours,
Friend.

Harry re-read the letter three more times while smiling. He really liked this friend. He only wished his other friends had been so bold.

Two years later

Harry pulled the stack of letters out from his trunk and went through a few of them, fingering them gently. It had been two years and he still was no closer to identifying who his friend was. He knew that his friend was male and a wizard. That was all he knew about the man. Except he knew one other thing. He was in love. Harry Potter loved an unnamed friend, who’s script could make his heart beat faster and words that made him want to melt. Harry never wrote about his feelings in his letters though, for fear he would lose his most intimate friend.

In the last two years, Harry had moved out of the Respite Manor and was given the choice of emancipation. After the loss of his godfather Sirius, Harry was determined more than ever to make it his mission to once and for all destroy the Dark Lord. He had done it too… without all the fuss that came with war. The man had never changed wands and Harry had finally had enough willpower to power through the connection. It was simple. No one else had to die. So Harry found his sixth year at Hogwarts was quiet and easy. Even the Slytherins seemed happier.

So now here he was in his last year at Hogwarts, studying for his NEWTS and wondering how he could get the one thing he wanted over the last two years. He wanted love, and not just any love, the love of his writing partner. So he re-read the last letter and tried to think of how to respond and start something.

Harry,

Classes were dull as ever today as you well know. The monotony of school has it benefits though. I saw you today at dinner and you looked sad. Why are you sad? Did your friends do something that upset you? I only want to see you happy. Please open up to me.

Yours,
Friend.

In all the two years they had written, his friend had never written such a short letter. He wanted to tell him why he was sad, but he was afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid to see who it really was, but more afraid that his friend would not be ready to show himself.

Harry paced next to his bed for a minute then gave up and wrote just a few words.

I’m in love and I don’t know what to do.
Harry

Harry stared at it. It was a stark and honest truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. Before he could reconsider, he snapped the letter onto the little owl’s leg, patted her head and she took off.

Harry felt like he had shot himself in the foot. He moved towards his bathroom and stared at the bathtub but decided against it. He flopped down on his bed waiting. Would he even receive another letter? He had not said who he loved… so there was that.

Harry did not have to wait longer than 20 minutes before he got a reply. His fingers shook as he carefully unrolled the letter.

It wasn’t the letter so much as the two small tear stains near the edge that caught his attention. Why was his friend crying?

Harry,

I understand your predicament. The hardest thing to do is to admit your feelings. But if you are in love, you need to tell her how you feel. You should never run away from happiness. Haven't I told you that you deserve happiness more than most? Go to her and tell her.

Let me know how things work out.

Friend.

Harry stared at the words, then the tears. He wondered why his friend was crying, it seemed to tear into his gut.

My Wonderful Friend,

I impart this truth to you, knowing you will not share. It is not a she that I love. I cannot tell him, because I don’t know if he can love me back. I have so much to lose if I tell him.

I need to see you. I need to meet you. Please say you will.

Harry

Harry’s hands trembled. Did he give too much away? He sent the letter on and put his face in his hands. He needed air, needed to breathe. He got up and grabbed his cloak. He took his time making his way out of his own room and down the stairs. It took him a few minutes before he was finally out in the chilly October air. He didn’t go far just down to the lake to sit next to his favorite tree.

A gentle hand tapped his shoulder. Harry did not know how long he had sat staring out on the moonlit lake, but the hand did not scare him. It was too gentle for that. Harry looked up and met Draco’s silver eyes. There was fear in them and concern. Harry did not know why Draco was here, but it did not really matter. Any company right now was welcome company. Both of them had rarely spoken in two years. There were no fights, no arguments, just companionable silence most of the time.

“May I sit, Harry?” Draco asked quietly.

“Sure,” Harry said and sighed when the blond sat next to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Harry asked.

“No, I had a friend who seemed to need me,” Draco stated softly, looking at Harry intently.

Harry looked at Draco for a moment, then the understanding dawned. Pieces fell into place and Harry smiled brilliantly for a moment, then remembered why he was here. It was not that hard to impose his “friend” and the love he felt for him onto Draco. It seemed natural and easy. But the twist in his gut reminded him that they were only that… Friends. His smile faded.

“My Friend,” Harry said quietly with a sad smile.

Draco nodded. His face had gone soft for a moment.

“Talk to me, Harry. I can’t take you sad like this. How can I help?” Draco’s eyes were pleading.

Harry wasn’t sure he had the courage and his eyes burned as he looked at his friend, the one he loved, but never really saw. Draco had never been more beautiful than he was now that Harry saw him as that friend he had loved now for so long. He ached to lay his head down in Draco’s lap and tell him everything. He was afraid to touch.

“I can hold him down so you can talk to him if you like,” Draco said softly, but there was a sadness in his voice.

“You can’t hold yourself down.” Harry blurted before he meant to say anything.

His face burned and he stood to leave, only to find his hand captured. He looked down and met the adoring silver gaze of Draco’s.

“Yes, I can… I won’t move.” Draco whispered tightening his grip on Harry’s hand. Draco tugged him down until Harry let go it all and collapsed into Draco’s lap as he had imagined moments ago. He laid his head there and looked up into eyes filled with stars. Harry reached up a hand and stroked the blond’s cheek delighted when Draco leaned into his touch.

“Why did you start writing to me?” Harry asked as he feathered his fingers softly over the pinkening cheek.

“When you came back with Cedric… I realized you could have been killed. For the first time, I couldn’t breathe. I realized I needed you, some part of you in my life. The idea of living in a world where you didn’t exist… Was unbearable. So I used what tools I had to become the friend I had always wanted to be.” Draco whispered as he stroked Harry’s hair softly.

Harry continued to stroke Draco’s cheek and stare up at the blond. He wanted to say so much more but was caught between revealing it all and reveling in the presence of Draco, his friend.

Draco seemed to be pleased with his touch and the quiet of the moment. His eyes were closed as he nuzzled Harry’s hand. Harry smiled, then took a risk and dropped his fingers to trace soft lips. Draco’s eyes opened and held something Harry had never seen before on anyone looking at him. Raw desire.

“How could you want me?” Harry asked quietly.

“How could I not?” Draco replied, sending his tongue out to lick the tip of Harry’s finger.

Harry sighed and pushed himself up. He stared into sparkling silver. Hung in the moment, they stared and breathed. Harry inched closer, slowly waiting for any sign of rejection. When he was mere centimeters away, he heard Draco groan before soft lips slid across his own. He closed his eyes at the sensation of soft silk and the scent of honied lemon. He let his tongue dart out to capture the flavor of that scent, only to end up tracing Draco’s lips. They sighed at the same time from the exquisite contact. Harry felt hands weave into his hair and opened his mouth and a tentative tongue found it’s way in. The kiss was languid and sweet.

This was his love, his moment in time to finally have everything. Love was perfect.

Harry shifted and moved to straddle Draco and sighed contentedly when strong arms came around him and held him with such tenderness. Here in Draco’s arms, he felt at home for the first time in forever.

~Fin
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Therapy of Words