Continuing Tales

The Buried Life

A Harry Potter Story
by Kalina Lea

Part 5 of 27

<< Previous     Home     Next >>

"Well, well, well. Isn't this cosy!"

Harry opened his eyes to see a blurry version of his godfather squatting down in front of him with an obnoxious grin. He blinked sleepily a few times before remembering where he was and why. He then became aware of a warm back pressed against his, and he realized why Sirius was grinning.

Had he been feeling more charitable toward Sirius, he might have offered an explanation for the unorthodox sleeping arrangement he and Hermione had adopted, but since he felt Sirius was largely to blame for his exile in Gryffindor Tower and that he was awakening him at what felt like a revoltingly early hour, he refused to dignify Sirius's teasing grin with any kind of a response.

No. On second thought… "Bugger off, Sirius."

Sirius threw back his head and laughed, and Harry became aware of the sound of Remus joining in. He sighed and reached for his glasses at the same time that Hermione sat up beside him and winced when she saw that they were surrounded by men – Remus, Sirius and – please, no! – Professor Snape.

Snape wasn't laughing.

Hermione cut her eyes at Harry, hoping he would receive her silent apology, and then she abandoned him swiftly and mercilessly to the three men. With what little dignity she could muster, she rose, pulling her blanket around her. "I think I'll just go upstairs now."

"An excellent, if somewhat overdue, idea, Miss Granger," Snape said icily, taking obvious pleasure in the fact that she practically fled at his words.

"Aw, lighten up, Snape," Sirius said, still chuckling.

Snape glared at him but didn't answer.

"Would you please tell me what you're all doing here?" Harry snapped. "And then would you go away and let me go back to sleep?"

"I'm afraid not," Sirius answered, and his smile was gone now. He sat down beside Harry's pallet and reached with one hand to smooth his godson's unruly hair in a gesture of paternal affection. "We need to talk to you for a few minutes, Harry, and then Remus and I are going to have to leave. There are some…loose ends we need to track down, and until we do, you're going to have to stay here at Hogwarts."

"What 'loose ends'? What's going on?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances, and Harry could tell that they were trying to decide how much to tell him. "Yesterday morning, Snape told us that he'd heard something of a plan to kidnap you," Sirius said carefully. "We're still not completely sure why, or even who's behind it, but last night we met with some men who were able to confirm everything Snape had heard, plus give us some clues as to where we might begin searching. We're going to London to brief Dumbledore, and then we're going to track this bastard down."

Harry felt as if his brain were working in slow motion. Someone wanted to kidnap him? Why? How did Snape find out about it? What would anyone possibly want with him?

"Why do you have to go?" Harry pulled that question out of the hundred or so that were swimming around in his head. "Why don't you call in the Aurors?"

"We intend to," Remus answered, "as soon as we have enough information. Right now there's just not enough to go on, and the Aurors are busy trying to capture the known Death Eaters who have been active in the last couple of years. So Sirius and I will do the preliminary work, and then we'll call in the Aurors."

"I want to go with you."

"Out of the question," Snape said firmly. "You're safe here at Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore will be back today, and he'll make sure of it. You need to stay out of the way and let us handle this."

Snape's words landed like a splash of petrol on the burning fuse of Harry's temper. "Quit treating me like a bloody kid!" he yelled, not caring in the slightest that Snape was a Hogwarts professor. "Do you know how sick I am of this? How many times do I have to prove that I can take care of myself?"

"You have survived your ill-advised escapades based on good luck and your surprisingly fortunate choice of friends," Snape said, and this time some of the venom was absent from his tone. "You do not yet have sufficient training to pursue this matter on your own, and, frankly, it would not be advisable even if you had. You are the target in this matter, Mr Potter. It would be foolhardy to parade you around in the hopes that the person behind this scheme might reveal himself - though I don't deny the terribly Gryffindor appeal of such a plan."

"I'm afraid I agree with Snape, Harry – except for the part about Gryffindors." Sirius shot Snape a nasty look. "You'll be the best help to us if you stay here and work on your assignments and practice your flying."

Harry glanced at Remus and saw immediately that he was without an ally. He clenched his teeth once and then resigned himself to the situation without further argument. "Fine. I'll stay here and be a good little boy."

"Good." Sirius smiled at his godson, pretending not to notice the sarcasm in Harry's tone. "Come and have a bite with us before we go?"

"Sure. Why not? I'll never get back to sleep now anyway." Harry scrambled up from his makeshift bed and reached for his wand, folding the blanket neatly with one flick of his wrist. He had slept in his jeans and T-shirt from the night before, but he reached for his Hogwarts robes and put them on over, rendering himself neat enough to dine with whatever of the staff was up at such an obscene hour.

"How very disappointing," Snape murmured.


"I was so looking forward to seeing Professor McGonagall's face when you went down in your underwear."

Snape slid through the portrait hole without a backward glance, and Harry looked at Remus, incredulous. "Did Snape just make a joke?"

Remus chuckled. "You know, Harry, I believe he did."


Hermione did not come down to breakfast, and Harry hoped it was because she'd gone back to sleep and not because she was too embarrassed to show her face at the table. He was still annoyed with Sirius on multiple levels, but they managed a fairly pleasant start to the meal nevertheless. Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch were the only staff members at the table besides Professor Snape, who sat to himself at one end and rifled through the Daily Prophet as he ate. Sirius, realizing that Harry was upset, went to great lengths to be jovial, and unlike the previous morning, when he had harped on Harry's neglect of his schoolwork, this morning he devoted to praising Harry's ability on the Quidditch field and bragging that Harry was a sure thing to play for England after finishing at Hogwarts.

"Do you really plan to try out?" Madam Hooch asked, eyeing him with fresh interest.

"Of course," Harry said. "Right after N.E.W.T.'s."

"We haven't had a professional Quidditch player from Hogwarts since Oliver Wood," Hooch said. "Perhaps we should arrange some extra practices for you this year…make sure you're ready when tryouts roll around. Do you still want to get a practice in today?"

"Of course."

"Good. Be at the field at ten, then, and we'll get started."

Snape had determined, as usual, to ignore his companions at the breakfast table, but he found his resolve sorely tested as the Quidditch conversation went on. "Am I to understand that you are seriously considering playing Quidditch after leaving Hogwarts, Mr Potter?"

"Of course I'm serious about it," Harry said, looking at Snape in surprise. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"If I were in a position to advise you," his glance flickered to Sirius, "I might suggest that you think through your options a bit more thoroughly before coming to a decision."

"What's wrong with Quidditch?" Sirius asked.

"You and I both know what's wrong with it," Snape answered. "At least where Harry Potter is concerned."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, looking from one man to the other. "Quidditch is the only thing I'm really good at."

"I believe what you mean is that Quidditch is the only thing that comes easily," Snape countered.

"Leave him alone, Snape," Sirius said, a clear note of warning in his voice. "He wants to play Quidditch. He enjoys playing Quidditch."

Snape felt ready to snap. He wanted to shake the two idiots in front of him, especially Black, who was the boy's godfather and damn well knew better. "He enjoys it," Snape sneered. "And that's enough for you?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" Sirius countered, his countenance darkening.

"You know why." Snape's voice was menacing, very nearly a whisper. "The most powerful wizard since Merlin himself should not waste years of his life on a broomstick chasing a little winged ball. The very idea is preposterous. And I should think that anyone in a position of influence over him would tell him that and not encourage him in such frivolous pursuits."

"What are you on about now?" Harry demanded. "Not twenty minutes ago you were telling me that everything I've ever done was dumb luck. Now you're saying I shouldn't waste my power playing Quidditch. Well, I'll tell you something, Professor, I'm not sure this power is everything everybody thinks it is. My grades aren't nearly what Hermione's are."

"And that is entirely due to a lack of application on your part, Mr Potter," McGonagall said dryly. "I'm afraid that I must agree with Professor Snape that Quidditch, while a fine sport, would be something of a waste of your abilities."

"This is really fun, Sirius," Harry muttered under his breath. "Thanks a lot."

Sirius snorted and ruffled Harry's hair again. "Severus," he said, and on his lips the name sounded strange to all of them, "You and I have rarely seen eye to eye on anything before, so I don't know why I think I might be able to convince you in this case, but I want you to know that I do take my job as Harry's godfather very seriously. I know what he's capable of, and I think that in his own time, he'll live up to that potential. But he had a rotten childhood with those hideous relatives of Lily's and then he spent most of his adolescence defending himself from Voldemort. He's finally won that battle, and I think he deserves to have a little fun in his life. There's been precious little of that for him. More to the point, I think that's what James and Lily would have wanted for him, and in the little time I've been able to actually fulfil my role as his godfather, that's always been my benchmark for any decisions I've had to make about Harry. Not what do I want, and not even what does Harry want, but what would James and Lily have wanted for him. You didn't really know James – and I know you didn't like what you did know – but I really think that James would have wanted Harry to play Quidditch right now. He'd have wanted his kid to have a little fun doing something he enjoys. Remus and I have discussed it, and he agrees with me. I'm curious – what do you think, Minerva?"

Minerva McGonagall compressed her lips for a moment, and they could all see the battle taking place between the antagonistic factions of her mind. Finally, she gave Snape a rare apologetic glance and said, "I agree, Sirius. I think Lily and James would have been proud of their son no matter what he did. They'd have wanted him to be happy first, and if Quidditch was what made him happy, they would have wanted him to play." She looked at Harry. "But Mr Potter, I also want you to remember what Professor Snape said, and if you ever want to discuss some of those other options, I'll be glad to do so. You are a talented Quidditch player, but there's so much more to you than that."

"Er, thanks, Professor." Harry looked back down at his eggs, wishing desperately for a change of subject. This was far more than he had bargained for at seven in the morning.

As usual, Remus, the peacemaker, came to the rescue. "So, Harry," he said. "What do you and Hermione plan to do today?"

Harry shot Remus a look of gratitude and ignored Sirius's quick wink. "You know Hermione," he

answered. "We'll probably spend half the day in the library."


Remus and Sirius left just after breakfast. Harry saw them to the front entrance of the castle, and both men pulled him into rough hugs before saying good-bye.

"Be careful," he cautioned.

"You too," Sirius answered. "Stick close to the castle and for once in your life, follow the rules. I mean it, Harry – I'm worried enough about this thing. I don't need you going off on one of your 'adventures' right now."

"You sound like Snape."

"Well, occasionally the slimy git is actually right," Sirius answered, smiling a little. "At any rate, I think he has your best interests at heart."

"What heart?" Harry retorted, but Sirius just laughed.

"Say good-bye to Hermione for us and tell her we're sorry if we embarrassed her this morning. Don't know when we'll be back, but we'll owl you as often as we can."

"All right. 'Bye."

Harry stood and watched as the two men walked off towards Hogsmeade, and then he made his way up to the Gryffindor common-room. Hermione was waiting for him, dressed in a summer shorts outfit and sitting at the table with a stack of books in front of her.

"Honestly, Hermione," Harry complained. "It's not even nine in the morning in the middle of summer break."

She shut her book with a smile. "Fine, then. What do you want to do?"

"Did you get any breakfast?"

"No." She giggled. "I could stand a bite of something but I didn't feel up to facing everyone until you had a chance to explain. You did explain, right?"

"Not really," Harry said, shrugging. "It never really came up. Sirius did tell me he was sorry if he embarrassed you though."

She shook her head. "I think Sirius I could have dealt with. It was facing Professor Snape…and in my pyjamas!" She shuddered.

"He saw me eating breakfast in my underwear the other day," Harry said. "It's not that big of a deal."

"That is not the same thing, Harry."

"Well, maybe not. But he was too busy planning my life at breakfast to give any thought to you or your jammies." He saw her curious look and dismissed it with a wave. "I don't want to talk about it. Or think about it." He glanced down at his robes. "I think I'm going to take a shower and change. Why don't you go get breakfast, and then you can hit the library for a while if you want. Madam Hooch is going to give me some extra coaching at ten. We can meet back up for lunch at noon."

"Sounds good," she agreed reaching for her wand. "Er, I didn't know I'd be coming here, so I didn't bring any robes," she said. "Do you think I'm all right walking around the castle like this?"

"I think so," Harry said. "I only wore my robes this morning because I'd slept in my clothes. If it'll make you feel better, I'll wear Muggle clothes today too."

"It doesn't matter," she said with a shrug. "If Professor McGonagall says anything, I'll just borrow some of your robes and do an altering charm so they'll fit."

"All right, then. I'll see you for lunch."


As it turned out, he saw her before lunch, sitting in the grass beside the Quidditch stands with a book in her hand. She waved to him and he darted towards her and hovered a few feet in the air.

"I decided to read out here," she explained. "It's such a nice day. I don't mean to interrupt though. Go have your lesson."

"Well, it's tempting to stop and study with you," he teased, "but I'd hate to disappoint Madam Hooch."

"Go," she said, waving him off.

He went, soaring high into the air and then hurtling towards the ground at breakneck speed. She cringed and turned back to her book.

She read and glanced at Harry occasionally until a prickle on the back of her neck made her turn around. Professor Snape was approaching, his eyes toward the sky and its lone Quidditch player.

She stood up and dusted herself off, feeling absurdly grateful that she happened to be studying next year's Potions text. "Good morning, Professor."

"Miss Granger," he returned. "You're looking rather better than when I saw you last."

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting a room full of visitors this morning, now was I?"

"Clearly not. However, I might point out that as Head Girl you have a private room which will, should you use it, afford just that – privacy."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, unable to keep the hint of sarcasm out of her voice. "I'll keep that in mind."

"See that you do." He squinted up at Harry another moment and then said, "Are you actually reading that book, Miss Granger, or are you simply working on your suntan?"

"I find that it is quite possible to do both, Professor. I had just completed the chapter on Advanced Healing Potions when you arrived."

"And what were your thoughts on that chapter, Miss Granger?"

"Honestly?" she said. "My first thought was that they are very complicated, and my second thought was, 'Poor Neville.'"

He looked at her sharply then, and she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch. "Indeed," he said. "Astute observations both, if not precisely the answer I was looking for."

"Actually," she said, relaxing a bit in light of his response, "I was curious as to whether you make all of these for Madam Pomfrey on demand. It seems that it would be quite time-consuming. The curative for migraines, for instance. I should think there would be a fairly ongoing need to have some on hand, but each batch takes several weeks to brew and then keeps for only five days."

"Most of Madam Pomfrey's medicinal stores come from commercial potion brewers," he answered. "I brew advanced potions for her only occasionally because of the very constraints you mentioned. Some of the simpler potions I allow particularly competent students to brew – under my supervision, of course."

"I know," she said dryly. "I had detention with you twice last year, remember?"

"So you did," he acknowledged, without the faintest hint of apology – and indeed, she expected none. "The commercial potion brewers are working towards better ways of preserving medicinal potions. It is one area in which the Muggles are ahead of us, I'm afraid, but the preservatives used by Muggles have proven utterly useless in the wizarding world. So until then, advanced potions will remain expensive, though most are not difficult to obtain. Should Madam Pomfrey require a potion to treat migraines, she would simply order it over the Floo. It would arrive in a matter of minutes."

"That makes sense. With the students so dependent on owl post, I forget that the staff have faster ways of communicating with the outside world."

Snape nodded and paused for a moment to see if any more questions about the Potions text were forthcoming. She could have kept peppering away at him for hours, of course, but six years of scathing reproofs to her intellectual curiosity had done their work only too well, and instead she fell silent. Snape changed the subject. "When Potter comes back down to earth, please tell him that the Headmaster has returned and would like to have lunch with him alone in his office. Twelve o'clock. The password is," he winced slightly, "tootsie roll."

"Yes, sir."

"Enjoy your morning, Miss Granger."


On the walk back up to the castle, she apprised Harry of his luncheon with Dumbledore and he told her the precious little he knew of the plot to kidnap him and explained that Remus and Sirius had already left to try to find out more.

"I don't like it," Harry said. "Remus promised they'd call in the Aurors, but I don't believe that for a minute. They think I'm impulsive; I'm nothing to Sirius."

Privately, Hermione agreed, but she made some obligatory sounds of reassurance before getting back to the problem at hand. "I just wish we knew why," she said. "I can see why someone might want to kill you…sorry," she added, seeing the look on his face. "You know what I mean, though: Revenge for killing Voldemort and depriving the vermin of their precious Dark Lord. But why would they kidnap you?"

"Maybe Sirius has a pile of money somewhere that I don't know about," Harry said thoughtfully. "I mean, he doesn't actually work , does he? And yet he seems to get on all right."

Hermione gave that theory a moment's consideration but then dismissed it with a wave. "Somehow I doubt it will turn out to be anything quite so prosaic. Given that it's you and all."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

"You'd better hurry," she said, as they gained the castle entrance. "You don't want to be late. I'll catch up with you after lunch."


Harry felt little nervousness as he knocked at the Headmaster's door. He had spent considerably more time in that office than most Hogwarts students, and with a couple of notable exceptions, the visits had been much in his favour. Since his conscience was clean at the moment, he had no fear of dining alone with Dumbledore and, in fact, had every hope that Dumbledore would be able to enlighten him on what exactly it was that Sirius and Remus were doing. Still, he looked down at his slightly rumpled T-shirt and shorts and the broomstick still in his hand and wished that he'd known of his lunch appointment ahead of time so that he might have made himself more presentable.

Sure enough, when Dumbledore opened the door, the contrast between the two wizards was dramatic. Dumbledore's long silver hair made an elegant contrast against the deep purple of his robes whilst Harry's hair, as always, stood out in every direction on his head. Dumbledore had the appearance of a sage who had spent his morning contemplating profundities, and Harry looked like exactly what he was - a kid who'd spent his morning on a broomstick.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Come in, please."

"Thank you, sir." Harry stepped through the doorway and set his Firebolt to one side before venturing further in. A table had been set for two in one corner of the room, and Dumbledore gestured him over to it. "I'm sorry…I didn't have time to change."

"No apology necessary, Harry. You're still on your summer break, despite your change of venue. I want you to enjoy yourself as much as possible while you're here. It is not necessary for you to dress like a student."

Harry might have looked a little doubtful because Dumbledore went on. "I would like to extend Miss Granger an invitation to stay on as well, if that is something she would like to do. Perhaps with her company your time here won't be so lonely."

Harry smiled. "That would be great, Professor. It'll be much more fun with Hermione here – and with her around, there won't be any chance of me not getting my summer assignments done."

"I expect you're quite right about that." Dumbledore chuckled and then quickly grew serious. "There is a minor administrative point we need to clear up, however." He looked at Harry over the rims of his glasses.


"If Miss Granger agrees to stay on, I'm afraid I shall have to insist that she make use of her own sleeping quarters," the Headmaster said firmly, and Harry felt his face grow hot. "You may, if you choose, continue sleeping in the common-room. I understand why your own room might be uncomfortable for you right now. Perhaps when the rest of your house-mates return it will be somewhat easier."

"Thank you, sir," Harry mumbled. "But Hermione and I…we weren't…"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Explanations are unnecessary, Harry, as long as we are clear on the future arrangement."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now then, I find that I'm rather hungry after my travels. Shall we go ahead and eat?"

Harry nodded and Dumbledore clapped his hands twice, causing the plates to fill with food.


"Yes, Harry."

"Can I ask how you did that? Without a wand, I mean?"

Dumbledore gave Harry an appraising look. "I wondered when you'd ask about that."

"Actually, Hermione is the one who…well, she suggested that I should learn more about it," Harry admitted.

"Good girl," Dumbledore said approvingly. "I've always been able to do it, Harry, just as you have. It's easier to do it than to explain how it's done, however, and unlike you, I had the good fortune to be raised in a wizarding family where my abilities were fostered rather than repressed."

"Hermione said that it would be irresponsible of me not to learn how to control it," Harry said. "Do you think that's true?"

"I do," Dumbledore agreed. "It is one of the things I wanted to discuss with you today, actually. I'd like you to consider doing an independent study this year – one that would focus on your individual abilities. You will continue to be welcome here at Hogwarts, Harry, and you will always have an open invitation to come to me for advice and counsel, but I am most aware that you have only one more year of formal training within these walls. I do not wish to send you out into the world unprepared, and it would be irresponsible of both of us to acknowledge your considerable power and then to allow that power to remain…unharnessed. Do you understand?"

"I think so, sir." Harry reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice and took a sip. "Would I work with you?"

"Some, perhaps, but not exclusively. You would probably work with several of the professors here, particularly Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, but I would like to ask Professor Snape to oversee your studies."

"Professor Snape! Why him?"

Dumbledore peered across the table over his glasses again, and Harry fought the urge to squirm. "I have my reasons, Harry. I believe that in time they will become apparent to you."

Harry knew from Dumbledore's tone and demeanour that he'd gotten all the answer he was going to get, and his dread of the upcoming school year increased exponentially. He dared not express his feelings, however, and so he turned his attention to his plate and began picking unenthusiastically at the delicious food. The thought of a yearlong independent study with Snape was enough to spoil his appetite permanently, he thought sourly.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It will be fine, Harry, I promise. If you and Professor Snape have problems, come to me and we'll work them out together."

"I'll probably be too busy with detention, sir."

Dumbledore's chuckle became an outright laugh, and Harry risked a glare at the Headmaster. It was fine for him to laugh – he wasn't the one who was going to spend the entire year cleaning out bedpans in the hospital wing.

Dumbledore didn't miss the glare; Dumbledore didn't miss anything, ever, but he had the grace to ignore it and change the subject to one that was only slightly less disturbing. "I spoke at length with Sirius and Remus in London this morning. I was most displeased at the news they brought, but I think that they and Professor Snape have proceeded wisely in this matter, and with any luck at all, it will be concluded in time for you to enjoy a fairly normal school year."

Harry nodded because it seemed to be expected of him, but he held out little hope for 'normalcy.' Normal, for him, was battling Voldemort once a year with his two best friends by his side. Not much chance of that happening this year, and with Ron gone he found he didn't much care what happened one way or another.

Dumbledore continued. "Your godfather told me how…displeased you were that they were taking the initiative in this matter and leaving you behind."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "They're treating me like a kid."

Dumbledore smiled and spoke gently. "You are an adolescent, Harry – neither child nor yet adult, but somewhere in between. Every adolescent struggles with the feelings you have right now, but in your case, the consequences of allowing you to assume too much responsibility too soon are much greater. In a year, you will have finished here, and we will all treat you as an adult. I will be very much surprised if you don't then occasionally yearn for the days when we made some of your decisions for you. With great power comes great responsibility, and yours will not be an easy life, Harry."

When has it ever been? Harry thought, but he didn't say it out loud, nor did he mention his intention to forget about being "the boy who lived" and be a Quidditch star instead. The morning's Quidditch discussion was all too fresh in his mind, and he thought that on the whole he'd rather not know where the Headmaster stood on that particular plan. He simply nodded again, and the Headmaster let the subject drop and moved onto other, more pleasant topics until their luncheon was concluded.


Harry found Hermione in the library after his lunch with Dumbledore, and after he had related all that had happened in the Headmaster's office, she badgered him into spending several hours on his Potions assignments while she drafted an owl to her parents, asking them for permission to stay on until the beginning of term.

"They'll be a bit disappointed," she said, "but I think they'll understand. This is the part of the summer we normally all spent at the Burrow, remember? Somehow, I'd rather be here at Hogwarts than home thinking about that."

Harry nodded. "D'you hear anything from Ginny?"

"We've owled a couple of times. Things are still pretty bad there, she says. Her mum…well, I think Ginny will be glad to get back to school too. What about you? Have you talked to the Weasley's at all?"

"Just right at first," Harry said. "Mr Weasley came to Hogsmeade right after I went to live with Sirius. We talked a bit and I told him what had happened. He said over and over that they didn't blame me at all, but…"

"But what?" Hermione reached for his hand, and he squeezed hers gratefully.

"How could they not?" Harry said in a rush. "I mean, I know they realize that I'd have done anything to keep it from happening, but how could they not wish, deep down, that Ron had just sat somewhere else that first day on the Hogwarts Express? That he had become best mates with Dean and Seamus instead?"

"Life just doesn't work that way, Harry. And Mr and Mrs Weasley have always loved you like one of their own boys. You know that."

Harry shrugged, not really convinced, and Hermione squeezed his hand again. "Stop it, Harry," she said softly. "Don't do this to yourself."

He nodded. "Back to Potions then."

"Back to Potions."

The Buried Life

A Harry Potter Story
by Kalina Lea

Part 5 of 27

<< Previous     Home     Next >>