Fin

Harry was very grateful that Q had constructed him some glasses. With one lens clear and one tinted black, they were much like the ones that Merlin - the real Merlin - had made for him. Now he no longer looked like he might be blind, and more like... a very posh pirate.

He was currently sitting at a table in the kitchen, a pair of gray trousers over his lap, needle in his hand, seaming up a leg he'd just taken in. His legs were crossed, and an ankle of a bright blue sock peeked out above his shoe.

With his free hand, he reached over to a still hot cup of just slightly milky black tea.