"I like the trees here," Harry said, his accent placing him far from home. "They keep my wrackspurts away." It was twilight, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. "You can stay at my place," Charlie said.
One night turned into teaching Harry to use the coffee machine, and then he grew used to fresh pancakes every Sunday. Until Charlie realized one day, while calling Harry down from the old oak out back, that he didn't want the man to leave.
A medley of FalconLux's The Boyfriend, hctiB-notsoB's I See The Moon, and The_Carnivorous_Muffin's Painting Red Madonnas.
EnniNova:
Стихи о Северусе Снейпе. Плачет о нем мать. Луна видит то, что не видит больше никто. Лили не ждет его за гранью. И портрета он не заслужил. До слез и боли в сердце. Читайте, это прекрасно.
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