certher
Stories
9
Chapters
109
Words
468.5 K
Comments
32
Reading
1 d, 15 h
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The boot prints changed before the trees thinned. Same tread, sharper edges. Water still pooled in the heels, gleaming wet. I crouched and touched one. Moisture clung to my fingertip. Minutes ahead, not hours. I wiped my hand on my pants and listened. Birds and insects filled the air, the canopy creaking overhead. Everything sounded right, and that was what bothered me. The prints ran too straight, cutting through puddles and roots instead of skirting them. Someone wanted a trail. I slowed.…
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Flies first. That’s what I hear. Not birds, not wind. Flies making circles in the air somewhere behind me, back where the cabin sits rotting with bodies that don’t matter anymore because they’re already gone and I can’t fix gone. The mud smells like iron and wet leaves. My hands are still crusted dark, knuckles split open from hitting things I don’t fully remember hitting. The rampage burned out somewhere in the night. Left me hollow. I’m sitting against a tree I don’t remember choosing,…
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Harry woke to the sound of Dean rummaging through his trunk, muttering about a missing sock. Sunlight cut through the window. Harry sat up and rubbed his face, still half-asleep. “What time is it?” he asked, voice still rough. “Late enough that we’ve got Flying in an hour,” Seamus said from across the room. He was already dressed, pulling his robes on over his shirt. “You gonna sleep through your first time on a broom?” Harry grunted and stood, stretching his arms over his head.…-
30.6 K • Ongoing
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The library was nearly empty at this hour. Most eighth-years were at dinner or holed up in the common rooms, enjoying their Friday evening freedom. Harry sat in their usual alcove, tucked away in the Restricted Section where Hermione had convinced Madam Pince to grant them research access. His Charms textbook lay open in front of him, but he wasn’t reading it. Hermione knelt between his legs, her head bobbing steadily as she worked his cock with practiced skill. Her school robes were gone, left in…-
62.3 K • Ongoing
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The quill scratched against parchment in the quiet of Harry’s office, a rhythmic sound that had become the soundtrack to his evenings. Mark. Grade. Next. He’d been at it for hours, working through a stack of essays that all said the same thing in slightly different words. Switching Spells, chapter twelve, regurgitated with varying degrees of competence. Harry set down his quill and pressed his fingers against his eyes, trying to ease the dull ache building behind them. The candle on his desk had…
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62.3 K • Ongoing
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