Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 15: Back to the Cave [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 15, "Back to the Cave"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: general
Summary: When the hostel in Bangor proves to be full, the two boys choose to sleep in the cave, where Draco tells Harry that he's always fancied blokes.
As she so often did, Hermione was fussing. "You will let us know on Tuesday where to meet you the next evening?"
Repressing a sigh, Harry answered, "Of course I will, or actually Draco will since he's better at the charm. If you have to get in touch before then, you can send Hedwig, but warn her to be careful."
Ron looked eager to leave Bath. He and Hermione were first stopping at the Weasleys' for breakfast, and then going on to see if they could find some of the Aurors who were members of the Order of the Phoenix, to ask what they knew of the Dark Mark. Harry was envious that Ron would get to do that. They both hoped to become Aurors someday, after all, but Ron got to have the fun while Harry was going to be stuck for days trying to figure out how to alter the Mark on Draco's arm, with little information and less hope of success. But it could not be helped. When the other two had made their farewells and gone, Harry asked Draco, "Ready for some breakfast? We can go find a café and decide what to do today, where to go."
There were several places nearby that looked to be reasonable possibilities. Harry chose the one that was most crowded, figuring that meant it was good, cheap, or both. They had to wait a few minutes for a table, but as they were in no rush that did not matter. Most of the other customers seemed to be local Muggles, but there were a few student types as well, so they blended in well. It was noisy enough too that if they spoke quietly, no one would be able to overhear anything odd. Harry considered what a Muggle might make of various wizarding terms, and shuddered.
Draco was fidgeting with his flatware. "If Hermione tells Professor McGonagall about me, how do you think she'll react?" he asked.
Harry reminded him that the Headmistress knew that it was Snape who had been responsible for Dumbledore's death, not Draco, and that she was a reasonable person, unlikely to do anything impulsive or in anger. "Why are you worried, anyhow?"
"I left everything behind that night – clothes, money, all of it. It occurred to me that maybe now I could have the house-elves pack up some things for me, if Hermione would be willing to bring them," Draco said.
That idea made Harry snort with laughter, thinking of Hermione asking a house-elf to do extra work, or any work for that matter. He reminded Draco of her opinions, but then it struck him that he could tell Kreacher to collect Draco's belongings, if only there were some way to contact the elf – which seemed impossible, since Hogwarts was closed for the summer. Harry explained this, without telling Draco how he happened to own a house-elf. It was too painful a story for Harry to want to recount it in public, overheard or not.
"It's not that urgent," said Draco. "I can wait till we see Hermione on Wednesday."
After they had finished eating – Draco insisted on paying exactly half, though his meal had been slightly cheaper – Harry asked if Draco had any ideas about where to go. Draco suggested a place in Wales, near a cave to which his father had once taken him. He assured Harry that Lucius Malfoy had not, in the end, used the cave to store anything connected with the Dark Arts, and Harry agreed that it sounded like a suitable location for their purposes.
Since Harry did not know where it was, Draco had to take Harry's hand in order to Apparate there together. Harry noticed that Draco's fingers were warm against his own, and he thought he could feel Draco's pulse beating, although he could not be sure since his own heart was pounding harder than usual. Then Draco Apparated them into a cool grey mist. It was chilly enough that Harry put on his jumper, and Draco likewise pulled out one of the shirts Mr. Granger had lent him. Draco was staring at him, and Harry looked down to see a messy splotch of tomato that spread across one sleeve.
"We should Scourgify our clothes tonight," said Draco.
True, and in fact more necessary for Draco, who had few clothes to begin with, to do it than for Harry, yet Harry felt obscurely rebuked. Wanting to change the subject, he said, "Did you say there was a cave?" He wondered if perhaps the elder Malfoy had learned of this location from Voldemort, or vice versa. It was worth a look to see if there was something there, though it seemed an unlikely spot to hide a Horcrux.
But it appeared to be just an ordinary cave when they reached it, with dirt and debris blown into the corners. Harry shut his eyes and tried to sense any traces of magic, as Dumbledore had been able to do, but without success. Draco had equally little knowledge of that trick, and so they went back outside where the light was better to begin studying the books Hermione had pressed upon Harry. On his way out, Harry touched the walls in a friendly fashion. With no feeling that there was any Dark magic present, he decided that he rather liked the place. It reminded him somehow of the cupboard under the stairs where the Dursleys had made him sleep for years. That had been tiny and dark but also familiar, his own space. Though he had never seen the cave before, it felt equally comfortable to him.
Trials and Transfigurations, the first book they looked at, was a hard slog to get through. Harry found himself rereading every paragraph twice or more. Draco did not seem to understand the text any better or more quickly, though, since he never turned a page before Harry was finished with it. That was reassuring. Despite having managed to get an E in his O.W.L., Harry was well aware that Transfiguration was not his best subject. He had thought Draco might be better at it than he was, but evidently not; not when it came to theory, anyhow.
Eventually Draco yawned and suggested they should take a break, asking Harry to tell him just how Harry happened to have a house-elf at Hogwarts.
It was inevitable that he should ask, Harry supposed. So even though he felt distressed about explaining, he said, "Kreacher belonged to the Black family."
Draco looked confused. "To the Blacks? My mother's family? What have they to do with you?"
"Sirius Black was my godfather," said Harry, swallowing hard against the lump that threatened to fill his throat. He was surprised that Draco had never picked up that piece of gossip from his parents, but perhaps it had not been widely known. Or possibly Sirius's cousin Narcissa, like his mother, had been so disgusted with his choice of allegiance that she no longer spoke of him. "When he died, since there were no more direct male heirs, he willed the family house to me, and Kreacher with it, over Kreacher's objections."
Harry decided not to tell how the Order of the Phoenix had used the Black house as a headquarters, and why he had decided Kreacher should not stay there. He trusted Draco, but it would be too long and complicated to go into all that at the moment.
"Actually," Harry realized with a flash of bitter amusement, "Kreacher would probably be delighted to do anything that you asked him to do, Draco, because he thought he ought to go to your mother's branch of the family, and he doesn't know you're a blood traitor now too."
Draco's expression grew wary, then blank. Harry supposed that it was the phrase "blood traitor" that bothered him, but what else could Harry have said? It was true.
"It doesn't much matter," Draco said, "since we still can't get into Hogwarts right now to give him an order."
"Right. Although if we did, well, I don't really trust Kreacher, but if he believed you were giving me orders, and were in charge, he'd be so happy I think it'd be safe. I'd ask Dobby to keep an eye on him too," Harry finished before realizing that mentioning Dobby to Draco might not be the most tactful thing to do. It had been Harry who had tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby, after all. Hastily he explained that he had done so because Dobby had helped save his life, and had been desperate for freedom from the mistreatment he had suffered from Draco's father.
Only after he had said so did it occur to Harry that that statement was even less tactful, and he wanted to sink into the ground. What was the matter with him today? Draco took no evident offense, however, simply saying, "If we ever do get to Hogwarts, you talk to Dobby and let me handle Kreacher."
"That's what I thought," agreed Harry, relieved that Draco was not annoyed. "Shall we get back to reading the book? I was thinking that if we worked through without breaking off for lunch, we could stop earlier and then go find someplace to stay, have an early dinner."
Draco was willing to do so, although he wanted to try one of the other books for a change. Harry had no problem with seeing if another one might be more understandable, and handed him Tricky Transfigurations. For several more hours they read together, discussing some of the more difficult concepts as they went. Harry believed that they should try something less dangerous before trying to alter the Mark itself, but he was not sure where would be a good place to start. Maybe another day's studying would give him some ideas. For now, his head felt so stuffed with the principles behind partial Transfiguration that he could not even collect his thoughts sufficiently to ask Draco's opinion on the matter. When Draco chose to go to Bangor for that night's stay, Harry was happy to agree.
They reached the city without incident, and Harry thumbed through the guide to see where the hostel was located. By sheer luck it was close by, only a few streets away. Luck, however, proved fickle.
"Sorry, lads." The young woman's face, under curly red hair nearly as bright as Ginny's, bore a genuinely regretful expression. "We're full up tonight."
"Oh. Thanks anyhow," said Harry automatically, retreating out of the door with Draco close behind him. He turned and said, "Now what shall we do?"
"Well, I'm sure there must be other places to stay here, it's not like it's only a village," said Draco.
"A pub like where we stayed in Godric's Hollow, or a B&B maybe. Sure," said Harry. "Bed and breakfast," he elucidated when Draco arched an inquiring eyebrow. "But I'll warn you that they might be more dear that either of us would like. That's the great advantage of hostels, you see, the price is usually about as low as one can find."
"Oh," Draco's face fell.
Harry understood very well that money was a concern for the other boy, until and unless he was able to get at whatever he had left at Hogwarts. Harry was perfectly able and willing to pay for Draco's share of expenses if necessary, but he respected Draco's wish to pay his own way. "We could go to some other town entirely and see if we have better luck at a hostel elsewhere. Or... we could go back and sleep in that cave."
"The cave?"
"Sure. We have our sleeping bags, we could make a fire, it's July. Even in the mountains we'd be fine," Harry said. "Eat dinner somewhere here first, of course, but it'll be light for hours yet."
Draco gave Harry a funny look. "You want to sleep out in that cave, in all that dirt?"
"We don't have to do it if you don't want to," said Harry patiently. "It's just an idea. Plenty of time to try another town if you'd rather."
"I suppose getting rid of the dirt wouldn't be hard. Maybe Transfigure something into a mattress, too," said Draco, his expression thoughtful. "I've never done anything like this before. It seems odd to me to want to spend the night in a cave, but why not?"
"Let's do it, then," Harry said, hoisting his rucksack up onto his back. "I've never really camped out like a Muggle either. At the Quidditch World Cup, the tents Mr. Weasley borrowed for us to use had bunk beds in them."
"My family's tent is rather nicer than that," said Draco, but his voice was more wistful than arrogant. "I suppose you and Ron shared a double bunk?"
"Yeah, we did. It was a lot of fun. Watching Mr. Weasley try to light a fire with matches as Muggles do – he was hopeless." Harry chuckled at the recollection, but he remembered, too, after Ireland's win, the Dark Mark glowing in the sky that night. He was surer now than ever that Draco’s father had been one of those mistreating the Muggle family that managed the campsite, even if it had been Barty Crouch who had cast the Mark.
"It sounds much more exciting to have been there with friends. I was there with my parents. Oh, of course you know that, you were in the Top Box as well, I remember." Draco looked embarrassed, and Harry wondered if he was also thinking of his father's actions, or just of the insulting things he had said to the Weasleys that day.
"Ron and I stayed up for ages, and the other Weasleys too, talking over the match. We could do that tonight if you liked. Stay up and talk that is," Harry said, feeling unaccountably nervous as he spoke. This was Draco, who had only yesterday sworn an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to Harry. What was there to fear from Draco?
"I'd enjoy that," said Draco. "But I'd enjoy more getting something to eat, soonish, or the only sound you'll hear from me tonight is my stomach rumbling."
Harry laughed. "Same here, I admit. Fish and chips sound all right to you?"
Having missed lunch, they each bought the largest portion of fish along with a great mound of chips. Harry doused his plate enthusiastically from the vinegar cruet, but Draco shook his head.
"I know, queer of me, but I prefer mine with just a sprinkling of salt, no vinegar," he explained.
"Boring," said Harry, pinching one of Draco's chips and popping it in his mouth. "But it's your tongue."
Draco picked up another chip and nibbled at it, licking the salt and grease deliberately off his fingers afterward. His tongue was rosy against his pale skin. Harry recognized that he was staring and quickly looked down, breaking off a piece of hot fish and eating it before glancing back at Draco. The other boy's eyes were fixed on Harry as he again lifted a chip to his mouth, with a half-challenging, half-quizzical expression on his face. Draco was flirting, Harry suddenly realized, and the thought made him blush. He took another large bite of his cod so that the heat in his face might be attributed to the temperature of the food, but a bit of the crispy batter went down his windpipe and he started coughing.
"You all right, Harry?" Draco got up to pound Harry on the back.
The offending crumb dislodged. Harry said, "Thanks, yeah. Fish in my throat," and then felt like a complete prat. Obviously he had had fish in his throat, no need to say so.
But as before, Draco did not seem to have noticed that Harry had said anything idiotic. "No trouble." He sat down again to eat his own dinner.
When every last chip had been eaten, Harry said, "Shall we get something else for later? I don't want anything more now, but if we stay up to talk I know I'll be hungry again."
So they bought sandwiches and crisps and a couple of chocolate bars, and were looking for a suitably deserted spot from which they could Disapparate without being noticed, when Draco nudged Harry's arm and pointed at an off-licence.
"Something to drink? Isn't that a shop where Muggles sell alcohol?"
Remembering what had happened in Bristol three nights before, Harry was torn. It would probably be fun, and since past experience suggested that Draco would probably be affected more than Harry, he was not too concerned about being embarrassed if he were to get really drunk. Although he did not intend to do so, who knew what might happen? He especially did not want things to get out of hand, and he suspected that might be Draco's intention, whether or not Draco would admit it.
"Come on, Harry, why not?"
Unable to come up with a plausible excuse in time, Harry let Draco lead him into the shop. The array of bottles on the shelves was bewildering, but Draco took over, smoothly asking the clerk what wine he would recommend for someone on a modest budget. They emerged with several bottles of a red Spanish wine and a corkscrew.
"Wine? Why not lager or ale or something like that?" asked Harry as soon as they were outside.
Draco shrugged. "I like wine. It tastes good, better than lager, and it doesn't run through the system like lager does."
"If you say so," said Harry. "You do realize we haven't any glasses to drink it from?"
"Do you have a problem drinking from a bottle?" said Draco.
"I thought you would," said Harry. "Rather low-brow for a Malfoy, isn't it?"
For an instant Draco looked angry, but then he laughed. "We're going off to sleep in a filthy cave, and you're worried about having the proper wine glasses?"
"Yeah, okay," said Harry, laughing as well. But he was still a bit concerned. Drinking from the bottle – it would be easy to drink more than he meant to, that way. He would want to be careful.
They Apparated back to the cave. The sun had dropped behind the mountains and the shadows grew long, but it would not be fully dark for an hour or more yet. Inside the cave, however, it was dim even though the mouth of it faced westward. Harry decided that their first priority must be the fire, which would be far more convenient for seeing than having to hold up a wand and use a Lumos spell as they had done that morning. Soon flickering blue light suffused the cave, and Harry mentally thanked Hermione for having learned that spell and taught it to him and Ron back in their first year at Hogwarts.
Draco was considering the layout of the cave. "The floor is smoothest over here," he said. "Let me just..." he pointed his wand and muttered, and all the dirt, leaves, and other debris gathered itself up into a ball and rolled outside. "It'll still be awfully hard and uncomfortable to sleep on the rock, but at any rate we won't get dirty," Draco said with satisfaction.
"Maybe a Cushioning Charm to soften things up?" Harry suggested.
"Like on a broomstick, you mean? That's a good idea, but I'm not sure I can do one large enough to cover the whole of a sleeping bag," said Draco. "Can you?"
"Won't know till I try," said Harry. He pulled out his wand. "Creopulvinus," he cast the spell, then felt around on the floor to see how it had worked. "A bit thin, but I think it'll be all right," he told Draco, spreading out his sleeping bag over the spot. "Give it a go."
When he was concentrating hard, Draco bit down on the left side of his lower lip, Harry observed. It gave him a rather fetching pout. Pulling his eyes away, Harry noticed the stain on his jumper that Draco had pointed out that morning. "Scourgify." The tomato sauce vanished, and Harry smiled. He glanced around. They had spread out their sleeping bags in a V, with their heads together and the magical fire in the space between their feet. The bottles of wine and the food they had brought were piled up tidily against the wall, along with their rucksacks. He was not quite ready to settle in for the night, though.
"Shall we go outside till it's dark?" he suggested.
A large flattened boulder made a convenient if somewhat bumpy seat a few dozen yards above the entrance to the cave. The hillside was quite steep, and no large trees grew here to block their view across the valley. Harry and Draco sat, not quite touching, and talked.
"This would be a great place to fly," said Harry, waving his hand at the trees below. "Challenging."
"Yeah. I've missed flying these last few weeks," Draco said. "No broom, for one thing, and it wouldn't've been safe to do it if I had had the old Nimbus 2001 with me anyhow."
"I suppose not," Harry said. "Even if we do figure out some way to hide you effectively, it's a safe guess you still won't be able to fly."
"No."
The light was fading more quickly now, with just the edges of the peaks across the valley lit in gold and scarlet. Harry glanced out of the corner of his eye at Draco. The other boy was sitting with his knees drawn up, chin resting on them, arms wrapped tightly around his shins. Tentatively, Harry reached out to touch him on the shoulder, but his motion was arrested when he saw something moving across the sky.
"Draco, look there!"
"What? Where?"
"There, see?" Harry pointed with a trembling hand. It was unmistakably a dragon, a Welsh Green Harry supposed, though in this light it was impossible to see any distinctive characteristics. To his relief the dragon was not heading in their direction, but merely flying along the length of the opposite ridge from south to north. When it had passed from sight, Harry sighed.
"Hagrid would've loved to see that."
Beside him Draco snorted.
"Look, I know you don't like him because he's a half-giant, but Hagrid's a friend of mine," said Harry defensively. "There's nothing wrong with him, and it was really uncalled-for when you tried to get him dismissed."
"Harry..." Draco began, stopped, shook his head, and began again. "Leaving aside the point that he's half-giant and giants as a rule are not exactly an estimable bunch, Hagrid may be a fine gamekeeper but he is a wretched teacher. It doesn't matter to me what he's like as a person, but I hardly learned anything about Care of Magical Creatures from him. His idea of a good lesson is liable to result in bodily harm to half the students in the class. So when I had an opportunity to try to get him removed and someone better in as a professor, of course I took it. I wanted to pass my O.W.L. and with him teaching it didn't seem very likely."
"That's not true," said Harry heatedly. "Hagrid's a great teacher. I learned loads from him, we all did, his classes were brilliant."
Draco looked at him as though he had sprouted purple feathers from his ears. "That's why you went on for a N.E.W.T. in the subject, right? Along with everyone else in our year?"
"Well..." Harry recalled some of Hagrid's choices for lessons, the Blast-Ended Skrewts in particular. "Okay, okay, so he's not the best teacher in the school, but he is a good person. He gave me a photo album at the end of first year, with pictures of my parents and their friends. Until he did that I didn't even know what they looked like. My aunt had no pictures; she couldn't stand her sister, was envious because my mum was a witch and got all the attention from their parents, I think. Hagrid's done a lot for me over the years."
"I'm not saying he hasn't, or that you haven't cause to like him yourself," said Draco. "All I've said was that he's not a good teacher, and really, that's undeniable. And I'm sure he would've liked to have seen that dragon tonight, but I'll tell you it's not my idea of a good time to find out without warning that I'm in a dragon's territory. I think maybe we'd better go back inside the cave, it's nearly dark anyhow."
"It was probably going back to its den for the night. The Welsh Green isn't nocturnal," said Harry, but he agreed with Draco. Best to go in.
The magical fire was still burning happily blue. Draco picked up one of the bottles of wine and the corkscrew and sat on his sleeping bag, looking puzzled. "D'you know how to work this thing?"
"Screw the twisty part down into the cork – no, take the foil off the top of the bottle first – then lever the cork out," said Harry, who had had plenty of practice opening bottles for his Uncle Vernon. He was surprised that Draco did not know some magical way to remove a cork, but maybe Draco had some reason for doing it the Muggle way.
With a certain amount of fumbling, Draco managed to extract the cork without breaking it. He raised the bottle to his lips and swallowed. Harry saw a red droplet clinging to the corner of Draco's mouth, swept up by his tongue as the bottle came down. Draco passed it to Harry. "Have some."
Harry lifted, drank. The wine tasted full and rich, making him think of plums warmed by the sun. Draco was right, this was better than beer would have been. He handed the bottle back and lay down on his sleeping bag, propping himself up on one elbow.
"Why don't you like girls, Draco?"
He had not meant to say that, not at all. And he could not blame a single swallow – all right, two – of wine for the way that the words had tumbled out of his mouth. Harry's stomach clenched with shame.
Over the neck of the wine bottle poised before his mouth, Draco's eyes glinted. He lowered the bottle and brushed back some strands of loose fair hair that clung to his cheek. "I'm sorry?"
Maybe Draco had not heard the stupid question clearly? But as Harry cast about for something to say to salvage the situation, Draco repeated, "Why don't I like girls?" and began to laugh.
"Er, yeah," said Harry weakly, and sat up, cross-legged, his shoulders hunched.
"I do like girls. Some of them, anyway. I just don't fancy them," said Draco, still grinning. "Why is this suddenly a burning question?"
"I, well..." said Harry, and in desperation took the bottle back from Draco for another swig, hoping that the interval might give him some idea of what to say, but nothing occurred to him and he had to put the bottle down on the floor before he choked.
Draco's head was tilted to one side, his expression intent. "You want to know if I'm really queer, and how I figured it out, because you don't know what you're feeling, and you're muddled about whether maybe you prefer blokes too and just never realized it before."
Draco made the statements straightforwardly, and Harry could only nod yes. A week ago he would have said without equivocation that he was in love with Ginny Weasley, that he had broken up with her solely because he thought it was the best thing he could do to try to save her life, and that it was impossible that he would seriously consider a relationship with anyone else. The only times he had ever messed about with another boy it was Ron, and that was mostly so that neither of them would feel completely unpracticed when they finally started going out regularly with girls. But now, now he was traveling alone with Draco Malfoy, and they had spent a fair amount of time kissing, and Harry had enjoyed it all rather more than made him comfortable.
"Yeah," Harry cleared his throat, "yeah, that's basically it."
"I've always known," said Draco thoughtfully, but he was studying the label on the wine bottle, not looking at Harry. "I mean... when everyone in my dormitory talked about which girls they fancied, who was best-looking and they'd like to shag if they had a chance... none of the girls ever got me hot, thinking about them. Well, that's not quite true. But never anywhere near as much as when I thought about... certain blokes. So it would've been pretty tough to not have an idea. I did snog a couple of girls, eventually, I told you that before, but it didn't do anything much for me. But when this one bloke, ah, well, shall we say that when he made a move on me, it all became very clear. He and I had some good times, even though there was never anything serious between us."
Harry wondered who it was that Draco had done all this fooling around with. Another Slytherin, he supposed, but he forbade himself to ask. "So then it didn't seem strange to you to be turned on by another bloke," said Harry.
"No," said Draco, "it seemed natural." He leaned forward, and now he was looking straight at Harry. The light of the fire turned his grey eyes to blue as Harry looked back at him. "Are you saying that I turn you on, Harry?" Draco sounded almost shy, and it gave Harry courage.
"Yes." That was the truth, but so was the rest of what he made himself say. "But I'm still not sure that I like you enough to go very far with it. Not that I don't trust you, now, but I don't know you. I mean, I've known Ginny for ages, and we didn't even..." Harry gulped and shut his mouth. It was none of Draco's business what Ginny and Harry had or had not done.
Draco put a hand on Harry's knee, and Harry almost jumped out of his skin. "I swore, yesterday, that I'd be loyal to you, help you in any need, right?"
"Right," Harry said.
"So what if this is what you need, now?" Draco's smile was pure temptation, and his fingers inched up Harry's thigh. "It doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to mean."
Harry decided that Draco was right. He might be saying it for his own advantage, but that did not change the facts. Whatever Harry felt for Draco, and those feelings were too complicated to sort out easily, it did not change his sentiments towards Ginny. The two emotions were entirely separate. And unless Hermione said something to Ginny, which Harry trusted her not to do, it was not as if Ginny could learn about or be hurt by anything Harry might choose to do with Draco tonight. Or on other nights. Not stopping to let himself think about it any longer, he put his hand over Draco's.
"No, it needn't mean anything," Harry agreed, bringing their linked hands back towards his waist, which pulled Draco off-balance and nearly tumbled him into Harry's lap before he untangled himself and crawled forward to push Harry back onto his sleeping bag.
"So where were we before we were interrupted the other night?" Draco murmured, his hands busy pushing up Harry's shirt. "About here, I think," and Harry gasped at the sudden wet suction on his right nipple. Draco was lying between Harry's legs, his stomach resting on Harry's groin, and Harry had no doubt but that Draco was well aware that Harry was very turned on indeed.
ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8 / ch. 9 / ch. 10 / ch. 11 / ch. 12 / ch. 13 / ch. 14 / ch. 15 / ch. 16 / ch. 17 / ch. 18 / ch. 19 / ch. 20 / ch. 21 / ch. 22 / ch. 23 / ch. 24 / ch. 25 / ch. 26 / ch. 27 / ch. 28 / ch. 29 / ch. 30 / ch. 31 / ch. 32 / ch. 33 / ch. 34 / ch. 35 / ch. 36 / ch. 37 / ch. 38 / ch. 39 / ch. 40