Author Notes: I forgot to include a small note about the title of the fanfic. Maybe you are curious? The title of this fanfic was not random, as I don't do random titles XD. It could be interpreted literary (in relation to the main theme of the fic), or you could look up the Churchil's Speech after the famous Dunkirk evacuation, "We shall fight on the beaches", where he said the phrase comprising this fic title. Churchil was referring to the rescue of the Allied soldiers, and this, too, fits the text well.

He ran. Trees creaked, bows shooting in front of him, making him dodge and jump aside. Leaves rustled under his slipping feet. He continued running. Wind blew, ruffling his hair, throwing loose strands into his eyes. He still ran. Rain poured over the darkening forest, its sounds muffling his steps, erasing his traces from hardly visible path winding through the bushes, their thorns scraping his arms and face, leaving ugly marks on his cheeks.

Three weeks. It's been three weeks of wild running, random Apparating and again running. He was almost anticipating the moment when his energy would run out and he would be caught. At least it would mean no more running. They would kill him, surely. Just two simple words and everything would be over.

Nevertheless, he still wasn't ready to give up. Not hope, as he ceased hoping when he was caught that first time, almost a month ago. But he simply refused to stop and wait for the inevitable calmly and obediently like a good boy.

He would run till his legs would refuse to carry him and his heart would stop in his chest. Not earlier.

He was a survivor all his life and he was not going to stop being one now just because of some stupid joke of fate.

And what a joke it was!

I.

A month ago Harry was still at Surrey, Little Winging, trying to live through the usual hell of a summer at his aunt and uncle's house. He was anticipating the coming of August, or rather the end of July: he was promised to be taken to some safe place away from his relatives on his birthday to remain there for the rest of his summer holidays. But he still had several weeks ahead of him for now before it would happen.

It was evening and he was late from his customary stroll through the neighborhood. If he arrived later than his cousin he would be left without dinner, so Harry sped his steps to catch up and possibly overrun Dudley, who, too, was returning from the meeting with his gang of friends.

Suddenly he heard a familiar sound of Apparation, followed by another, and then another one. He saw several dark-clad figures standing just shy of the road he was running up, glimpses of white under their drawn hoods. Death Eaters.

How they managed to learn of his address or why there was no Voldemort among them, Harry didn't question. He just brandished his wand, which he never left at home these days after disaster at the Department of Mysteries at the end of the school year.

He never got to say even one syllable of any spell – one of the attackers threw something at him, and Harry instinctively caught the object. Familiar pull of a port-key whisked him from the street silently and effectively without any struggle or battle.

The port-key brought him directly to some dungeon, where he immediately was chained to the wall, his wand taken, together with his clothes. At least, they left him some dignity in the form of his underwear, so he would not be totally humiliated when the time came.

Or so he thought.

Three days later he wished that time came quicker. On the first two days Death Eaters, one after the other, took turns torturing him – Cruciatus, muggle beatings, knives, simple mockery, which in his state was almost as bad as the physical pain they inflicted.

What worried him was that the Dark Lord never came. Either he was afraid that Harry's luck once again would bring his untimely demise, or he was busy with something more urgent – although, what could be more important than his nemesis' capture, Harry was afraid to guess.

On the third day he was left on his own. No torture, no mockery, nothing. When fourth day came, he once again was subjected to the visits from every Death Eater there was. This continued for two days, and he was once again left forgotten in the dungeon on his sixth day in captivity.

At the dead of the night, that followed, someone came to him. Pettigrew.

Harry expected another round of torture, or maybe to hear Wormtail slander his parents. Instead he removed the chains, but brought a piece of cloth to Harry's eyes, blindfolding him. His hands were roped in front of him, but the ropes were not too tight. As if Pettigrew cared.

Shuddering at the thought, Harry followed silent nudge forward and, stumbling on every second step, went somewhere.

"Lucius complained about the smell." Wormtail explained after a while, when they seemingly reached their destination. "You should stay here. Take a bath. I will bring some food while you're bathing. You will have about two hours, before Lucius comes to take you back. My Lord will surely need me, so I can't bring you back down myself. Don't wander the corridors, stay in here. Please."

This last "please" made Harry wonder, whether this escapade was authorised by the Dark Lord. It looked like it wasn't. Or maybe Wormtail was ordered to simply get rid of the smell somehow, but the rest was his own initiative. Or Lucius'.

Wormtail removed the blindfold and ropes and left him alone in a room. It looked like someone's private chambers: spacious bed, bookcase and wardrobe occupied most of the room, the rest was taken by the fireplace. Harry briefly wondered if it was connected to the Floo Network, but decided against trying to escape. And anyway he didn't see any Floo powder and couldn't conjure or accio some, as he didn't have his wand.

He turned and saw a half-opened door, leading to the en-suite bathroom. Not too lavish, but comfortable looking tub was the center of it, along with a toilet and wash basin with small mirror above. Nothing grand, but convenient and practical. The décor of both rooms was quite neutral – beige and cream colors and light wood were the main themes, even the décor of the tiles in the bathroom was light faux-wood. And neither the bedroom, nor the bathroom showed anything remotely personal, like a vase, a flower, a picture or some other sign of homely home. Nothing. This could have been a hotel room or just a guest bedroom, but Harry thought he felt something akin to personality nevertheless. The comforter on the bed was just too neatly folded, the poker near the fireplace looked like it was constantly used and shuffled from place to place in front of the hearth, there was a tiny hair in the wash basin, showing that someone was here just recently.

But aside from these visible signs there was also the smell. Masculine musk odor, although very light, barely there, was clinging to the bed sheet, to bath towel and to the clean and seemingly unused robe on the hook in the bathroom. Slight freshness of the aftershave remained in the bathroom, man's cologne – in the bedroom, shampoo smell was emanating from the bathtub and lingered on the pillow.

This was someone's private room. Probably, Lucius stayed in here when coming for the Death Eater meetings, if it was truly his idea to make Harry clean. Hell, he would agree to use Snape's private bathtub, and won't think twice, as he was really dirty and tired and hungry. Even Voldemort's chambers were acceptable while they provided him with such an opportunity –

He winced at the picture he imagined: snake-like bald gray-skinned man, thin and skeleton-like, with red eyes gleaming devilishly, sitting in this simple bathtub, scrubbing his bony legs and in between. Almost choking on a bile which has risen in his throat because of the picture his imagination provided, Harry hurried to draw himself a bath and clean away a week's worth of grime and slime covering his body.

After washing he quickly ate the meal brought by Wormtail and tiredly got to bed, intending to doze of a bit, making use of the comfort provided by the fluffy bed, before he would be brought back to coldness and roughness of the dungeon.

He was waken from his slumber by the loudly opened door. Someone stumbled over the threshold clumsily. Harry bolted upright, only to be toppled over on his back again by the man, who barged in and fell on the bed, successfully pinning him to the mattress with a heavy body. The intruder quickly discarded his clothes, not even bothering to get up, and hummed contentedly, making himself comfortable almost on top of Harry.

It seemed, the stranger had not registered his presence, so Harry tried very carefully to get away from under him to hide in bathroom while waiting for Pettigrew to come back. Unfortunately, the man, who, Harry thought, had been asleep already, suddenly felt him with his hands. With a dark satisfied chuckle the man brought his hips forward, grinding into Harry's pelvis.

Harry gasped in fright and tried to wriggle from his clutches. The man, who was still not uttering anything coherent, aside from occasional moan of pleasure or a sound of satisfaction, grabbed him tighter and continued his ministrations, squeezing, stroking and pinching here and there.

The stranger brought his tongue into play, licking and lapping firstly his neck, then he went upwards to Harry's jaw and ended all this with a hot kiss, pushing his tongue into Harry's mouth with force, making him squirm in displeasure, trying to evade the intrusion. One of stranger's hands found his nipple and twisted it. Another hand stroked his torso and Harry felt it go south, frighteningly close to his private parts, tenderly yet purposefully gliding along his thigh, the man's thumb almost touching his already half-erect cock. He was still only a teenager and such attentions even from a total and possibly hostile stranger made him hot and bothered.

Shuddering under the other's touches, Harry still tried to get away, but was abruptly slapped, the place of the impact on his mid-thigh immediately beginning to sting unpleasantly. The man above him growled menacingly and pinched the reddening mark on his leg, making the stinging sensation more powerful.

Harry whimpered in protest, as he felt the other's hand move, now circling his waist and lowering towards his anus.

The stranger hummed questioningly and, still managing to hold Harry in place with one hand, reached to the nightstand with another, taking something from the drawer.

As the room was only getting darker with each passing minute, Harry couldn't see either the movements of the stranger or his face clearly, not to mention that he lost his glasses long ago so his vision was far from perfect to begin with as he could see anything even remotely clear only when putting his nose very close to the subject he was looking at.

Suddenly Harry felt the stranger's hand on his back again, slick and cool finger immediately slithered into him, making him writhe under the man and whine a bit at the unpleasant sensation. The second digit was pushed inside his ass, followed by the third one and soon he could feel four fingers stretching and scissoring his entrance.

Harry let out loud sob, anticipating with dread the inevitable intrusion. If the stranger deemed necessary to put as many as four fingers inside his hole to make it big enough for the penetration, than Harry was horrified to feel the man's member going inside, as it sure should be quite big!

While the stranger prepared him, he still continued to caress him and fondle with Harry's own erection, bringing him at least some form of pleasure, as unwanted as it was. For some time it almost distracted Harry from the actions at his back, drawing his pleasure-clouded attention to the hand on his cock, at one moment leisurely stroking and at the other second squeezing him almost painfully.

Just as he was brought to completion, spilling his seed all over the man's chest and his own abdomen, gluing them together with sticky come, Harry felt the stranger's cock touching his ass, pushing inside with some force in spite of his previous preparation and stretching. Harry cried out, when the man pushed even more with a satisfied grunt, the discomfort from intrusion seemingly growing with each breath and small movement of the other's thick cock inside him. Harry let out a string of curses, when the man tried to thrust further. The chuckle was his only response. And then the stranger began to thrust in honest, his movements in Harry's ass making the boy see stars from the pain he felt there.

Harry scraped the stranger's shoulders, drawing some blood even with his blunt nails, his frantic movements were so forceful.

Still sobbing, Harry tried to put his legs a bit higher in hopes to give the man better access and ease his own discomfort somewhat.

"Wait a moment," the stranger breathed out, sensing his attempts. And in the next moment he slipped out of Harry completely. Unfortunately, the man only changed their positions, laying on his back and easily lifting Harry on top of him, motioning for him to straddle his reddened and throbbing erection.

There was no way for him to get away now, he realized, as the stranger would surely raise an alarm and everyone would learn of Harry being outside the dungeon.

Supporting himself with trembling hands, Harry carefully lowered himself on the man's member. The sensations were still not very pleasant, but this way he had at least some control and the position allowed them to have better angle, giving the stranger the opportunity to almost fully sheath himself inside Harry with less pain to his over-stretched ass.

Harry made several chaotic thrusts met halfway with the stranger's hips going upwards in the attempt to speed up the intercourse.

"Move," the stranger grumbled when Harry stilled at one moment trying to adjust their position to ease the tension in his trembling and weakening limbs. Such way was less painful for his ass, but his legs and hands were already giving in, as he did most of the work.

Seeing this, the stranger brought his hands up, helping Harry to ascend on his cock and to go down afterwards.

Breathing heavily Harry arched his back backwards, when suddenly feeling the jolt of pleasure shoot through him with the stranger's member accidentally brushing his prostate. Gasping Harry almost fell from his place atop of the stranger – he never felt anything like it, all his previous experience consisting only of fantasizing in showers and accidental wanking behind closed curtains in the Hogwarts dormitory at night.

He knew that in theory such thing were possible, but Harry had no time to experiment with his sexuality, only occasionally getting tangled into the talks about girls (and sometimes boys) among teen-aged students of Hogwarts.

Harry whimpered something suspiciously akin to "More!", embarrassing and surprising himself. Surely, one should not ask for more, when they are being violated?

The stranger gave his customary chuckle, but complied, bringing his hips up angling them just so that Harry felt the same sweet jolt of pleasure going through him again.

Harry tried to return the favor, rushing his up-and-down movements some, swinging his hips involuntarily and dragging a loud and very satisfied moan from the stranger because of this movement. Still in the mood for experimenting Harry swayed his hips some more, making almost circling movement on the stranger's member. This resulted in an even louder groan followed by several curses and wordless hisses from the man, who seemingly lost the remnants of his self-control and was thrashing and thrusting upwards and forcefully dragging Harry down onto his cock.

Then it was Harry's turn to moan loudly, as the stranger managed to position them so that his member hit Harry's prostate almost every other thrust, and at the same time he took Harry's returned erection in his mouth, circling it with skillful tongue, sucking and humming, sending waves of vibrations along Harry's cock. This was the proverbial last straw: after a painfully pleasurable minute or so Harry was sobbing, moaning and thrashing on the stranger's member, successfully dragging him to completion as well with his movements. A long drawn-out groan of them both signaled the joint orgasm. Feeling his body washed in a wave of strange tingling akin to the sensation he felt, when performing some of the more potent spells and charms, Harry collapsed bonelessly on top of the stranger, the latter hissing with satisfaction and not even bothering to remove his deflated member from the other's ass.

After several minutes of ringing silence Harry found some leftover strength to prop himself on his elbows and look into the face of the stranger, on the chest of whom he was still lying.

"You okay?" slurred the man, not bothering to open his eyes. "Hope, it wasn't too painful, hmm? I usually warn ahead, but–" he trailed off when Harry didn't respond. "Hey," the man opened his eyes and looked at a boy.

Red eyes widened in shock, as did the green.

Harry paled and recoiled.

Just a moment ago he would have said something incredibly stupid and sappy along the lines of "I liked it anyway" even though technically it was rape and he was captive of the Death Eaters, and this probably was one of them, in other words, his captor. And now–

Trembling and breathing rapidly, Harry tried to get away, at least partially: Voldemort's member was still in his ass, and anyway if the other wished so, he easily could snap Harry's neck with these huge and strong hands or maybe strangle him without much of an effort, not even using a wand and magic.

Instead, though, the man underneath him simply stared, not lifting one finger against him.

Moreover, just as Harry was contemplating a quick dash to the bathroom to lock himself there, the man smirked and lightly raised his hips, as if in demonstration. With dread Harry sensed the man's cock twitching in his ass, growing bigger with each one of Harry's trembles and gasps. It seemed, the Dark Lord was getting off on the fear and helplessness of others. Big surprise, that!

Finally strong hands moved – only to adjust Harry, who was still straddling Voldemort's hips, so that his weakened legs and hands would need to make less work if they repeated the intercourse the same way.

Harry blinked at that. Voldemort making someone comfortable? When he processed the man's earlier words he realized that they were even more shocking. Voldemort apologizing?! For his big size, no less!

Harry shook his head in disbelief and closed his eyes in defeat.

He suspected this would not end well, even at that moment, when he was brought to this room to bathe and realized that it belonged to someone, so there was no need to feel surprised or to hope for salvation.

He should maybe thank Voldemort that he was not dying a virgin and relay to him his satisfaction despite this being a rape.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes to look at the man underneath him: dark chestnut locks, somewhat angled features, high cheekbones, slightly plump lips. Red eyes. Aside from his eyes, Harry thought, the man was rather handsome and he did not looked his age, his looks reminding Harry of his encounter with a teen-aged Tom Riddle during the Chamber of Secrets incident. But, as just a month ago Harry saw the same man all snake-like and monstrous, these sudden changes surely were a sign of something big going on. Either the Dark Lord found some new source of power or some old knowledge, allowing him to return the looks of his youth instead of ugly and truly Dark-Lordish appearance he sported before.

Well, Harry was not going to complain either way, all the more so, as he was certain that the second round of this non-rape was coming up, and the more handsome partner was the more preferable one.

True to his anticipation, the Dark Lord slightly moved his hips upwards, reminding Harry who was truly in charge, despite him being on top physically.

"This time it won't be so painful, I promise," the unexpected tenderness in the Dark Lord's voice made Harry gape like a fish. "What?" a bit annoyed, asked Voldemort. "I don't do rape, thank you very much!" he growled. "I was carried away after the Dark ritual and a bottle of good wine, Lucius treated to me! I have you know, I don't need to violate anybody, they lay under me perfectly willingly!" while explaining all this, the Dark Lord carefully stroked Harry's thighs and lower abdomen, avoiding his non-existent erection for now.

"As you wish," smitten, Harry sighed tiredly. "Don't know why you bother, anyway," he mumbled.

The Dark Lord chuckled contentedly and continued stroking his legs, knitting tired muscles with strong fingers.

"How did you come here? Last time I checked you was chained in the dungeon."

"Malfoy. He said I stink." Harry snorted. "What did he expect, perfume? I was held in your dungeon for five days!"

Voldemort hummed absentmindedly.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, slightly nervous, after several minutes had passed and Voldemort continued just to lazily stroke and massage his legs, arms and abdomen, with his cock still remaining fully sheathed in Harry's ass, but not moving, aside from his hands.

"Relaxing you. You're still trembling," the Dark Lord observed.

"Who wouldn't? After the forced sex with the drunken Dark Lord anyone would be trembling," Harry grumbled. Despite this, he felt himself gradually relaxing under Voldemort's careful touches, his trembles subsiding a notch.

"I apologize," The said Dark Lord sighed and abruptly slid out of him, shifting so that Harry now was laying on his back underneath him, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Wh-what–?"

Instead of verbal answer, Voldemort slowly descended on him, trailing a path of quick wet kisses along his jaw, down his throat and lower, kissing his chest, though avoiding his nipples. Licking and sucking continued, Harry felt soft lips on his belly, then warm breath touched his groin, Voldemort's mouth was nearing his twitching but still soft member, tricky tongue gliding down his left thigh, then his right one. And again Voldemort avoided the most intimate parts of him, only hinting at possible pleasure, but not granting it.

Now Harry trembled for the completely different reasons, his breath hitching in his throat, when he felt feather-like touch of Voldemort's lips on his member, immediately bringing him to full hardness. The Dark Lord's lips collected the precum appearing at the head of his cock, and the next moment Harry gasped and jerked his hips upwards, when his cock was enclosed in warm wetness of Voldemort's mouth.

The Dark Lord gripped his hips, forcefully holding them in place, and made a humming noise in his throat, sending waves of pleasure to Harry's member still fully in his mouth.

Harry vision swarm, when that skilled tongue began stroking and circling his cock, low throaty humming of the Dark Lord making vibrations, which sent Harry to the seventh cloud, his toes curling in almost unbearable pleasure. He cried out, all coherent thoughts leaving him, when Voldemort took him even deeper into his throat, simultaneously massaging his balls with one hand and holding his hips down with the other.

When the hot wetness suddenly disappeared, Harry whimpered in protest and managed to lift his head up and look down at the Dark Lord, who now was kneeling between his legs and spreading and lifting them, bringing Harry's legs to his own shoulders. Voldemort shifted slightly forward, still holding his legs upward and almost effortlessly slid inside him in one swift motion. Harry gasped from sudden intrusion and buckled, instinctively trying to get away. Voldemort bent down and again took Harry in his mouth, not moving his lower body and only sucking Harry for a while. Harry squirmed and withered underneath his ministrations, lost in the pleasurable sensations and didn't notice the first thrusts of Voldemort pushing into him. When the Dark Lord was fully inside, he grunted in satisfaction, the vibration from the sound going down his cock bringing Harry to his climax with such force that he blacked out for couple of moments, only to be brought back by the quickening thrusts of Voldemort pounding into him with low growl and still sucking on his already soft member, seemingly turned even more by the soft flesh in his mouth.

After several violent thrusts and some sucking Voldemort at last released Harry's twitching and again half-erect cock from his lips and concentrated on his own erection, coming in and out of Harry's still quite tight hole. Speeding up, Voldemort groaned loudly, shoving and pushing deeper one more time before forcefully releasing his seed, which filled Harry to the brim, making him feel a wave of tingling hotness going from his ass to every cell of his tired body. Voldemort tiredly collapsed atop of him, dropping Harry's legs from his shoulders and landing with his face on Harry's thigh, near his once again full erection.

"Who's raping who here?" Voldemort snorted tiredly, his breath making Harry's cock twitch painfully, growing even harder.

Harry moaned in response, covering his furiously blushing face with his hand.

"Remind me to never again take a hormonal teenager to bed," the Dark Lord grumbled, bringing his hand to Harry's member lazily and carefully touching with the tips of his fingers.

Harry whimpered pitifully at the touch. He didn't think it was possible to become even harder, but that was what was happening. Dark sports swarm in front of his eyes from the tension. He shifted uncomfortably, squirming and trying to move away from the teasing hand.

The Dark Lord let out a trademark chuckle and slowly propped himself on his elbows above Harry's groin, his arms slightly trembling from the effort, which was not surprising, really, what with two consecutive very tiring orgasms. He gave out a breath, the puff of air touching Harry's cock drawing another pitiful whimper from the boy.

"New kind of torture?" Harry managed to ask between whimpers.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed devilishly, his brows wriggling suggestively a couple of times, infernal smirk coming onto his swollen and parched lips.

"Don't give me ideas," Voldemort purred.

As his face still was very close to Harry's groin, his purring brought another wave of torturous air to Harry's erection, making him moan carnally and jerk his hips upwards uncontrollably.

"Hush," Voldemort taunted, deliberately choosing yet another airy word.

Harry whined.

Voldemort sighed as if defeated.

Harry groaned.

This was quickly becoming less and less funny, his hard-on was already so painful that it was killing him, and the bastard, whose fault it was, just continued to torture him with his teasing and taunting comments!

At this moment Voldemort finally took the matter into his hands. Literary. His palm encircled Harry's erection, squeezing it tightly, drawing a loud groan from the boy. Then he began stroking him, his movements painfully slow, as if he couldn't decide how to proceed or maybe couldn't remember how to do it properly, with all those willing bodies at his feet he boasted about.

Before Harry found a snide enough comment in his brain, which was already mushy from the pleasure he got, Voldemort let out another sigh and lowered his head to Harry's groin.

Harry let out a yelp of surprise, when the Dark Lord's teeth scraped his raging hardness.

"Sorry," Voldemort hummed around his cock, the motion sending shivers through Harry's overly sensitive body.

Another wave of pleasure hit him just moment later, when Voldemort did something with his tongue.

With wide eyes Harry looked at the forked long muscle looking like snake's, into which Voldemort transformed his tongue, rapidly shooting from the man's mouth for a brief second, encircling his member several times. This was too much for Harry's immature psyche. When that unbelievably flexible and skilled tongue did something even more tricky on his member, he lost it completely, forceful and long orgasm engulfing him like a stormy wave, dragging loud scream of painful pleasure out of his throat.

Still in the afterglow haze, Harry thought he heard a growling "Fuck!" along with a string of curses in several other languages.

Before Harry collected his thoughts enough to ask what's happened, he felt the other's thick cock, fully erect and stonily hard at his own entrance, pushing inside without problem and buried deep inside him in a matter of seconds.

This time he didn't felt any discomfort. Almost. The Dark Lord's member still was quite thick, and his anus was not intended for such activities, so this presented a minor complication, as the Dark Lord needed more force to thrust into him and to come out, which he for some reason did almost completely.

Though Harry could agree, that this way the sensations were dragged out for longer and he had a moment between thrusts to catch his breath, before Voldemort fully sheathed inside him again, making him moan and writhe, trying to find the position, which allowed his prostate to be hit. This was happening almost every other thrust, Harry seeing stars and arching his back every time with a groan or gasp.

When Voldemort finally came inside him, a jet of hotness going through Harry together with his seed, they both fell limp on the bed, hardly breathing and moving after the third round of mind-blowing sex and consecutive orgasms.

"I'm spent dry. You sex-monster," Voldemort grumbled sleepily, not even moving from the place where he fell – half-draped around Harry, his head on the boy's shoulder and his legs tangled with Harry's, with one hand across Harry's torso, successfully hugging him and pining to the bed underneath the Dark Lord. "Don't you dare run!" Voldemort slurred, immediately falling asleep. Harry followed suit just mere seconds afterwards, too tired to think of anything.

Several hours later Harry awoke in the same position – in the Dark Lord's embrace, but there was someone else in the room – Wormtail. He was trembling like a leaf and stuttering, when he whispered that he would help Harry escape.

Harry didn't think twice and at that moment didn't remember half-threat and half-plead, uttered by the Dark Lord before they both fell asleep. He carefully untangled himself from the sleeping form of the Dark Lord, put on the clothes, which Wormtail brought him, and left the room and the mansion all together, led by Pettigrew.

The Rat stuttered something about the life-debt he owned to Harry and to the memory of his parents, but Harry, still in a daze, ignored him.

Pettigrew brought him outside, to the boundary of the Anti-apparation Wards and bid good-bye.

And after this Harry ran.

Now, after almost three weeks of running he was dead-tired and almost ready to just surrender. He knew he was chased by the Death Eaters sent for him by the furious and horny Dark Lord. The latter fact was confirmed, when Harry accidentally fell asleep during one of the first few nights of running and saw into Voldemort's mind, feeling his body, as if he was the man himself. Moreover Voldemort was beyond angry, sending Cruciatus and other Unforgivables right and left, just for the wrong breath of his stupid followers. Wormtail was nowhere to bee seen, probably dead. Lucius, too, was out of his Lord's sight, maybe chasing Harry personally, or attending to the other matters.

What was worse, though, Harry now needed to get away from any member of the Order of the Phoenix, too, as they were chasing him with even more determination than the Death Eaters.

Several days ago Harry at last managed to put enough space between himself and the Dark Lord's troops to attempt Apparating to Grimmauld Place without the risk of bringing enemies to the threshold of the Order Headquarters. At first all went well, everyone fussing over him, treating his numerous wounds and cuddling him. But then everything went downhill.