“Preston,” Julian’s hoarse voice said from under one of the pillows. “Please kill me,” he requested miserably. “I’m sorry, sir, but that will have to wait. You have a visitor,”

“I’m a teacher! A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!”“I’m sorry, sir,” said Harry, emphasizing the last word.Hagrid looked stunned. “Since when have yeh called me ‘sir’?” “Since when have you called me ‘Potter’?”

“Don't leave yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "Let me do something. Let me feed you. Hold you. Rub your shoulders. Change your oil. Anything, please.”

“That would do the trick," he said hoarsely. "Jesus, Harper, I don't understand why we don't have guys following us from town to town just to watch you do that." "Because I've never done it for anyone but you," I said. "You don't think I'd say something like that to anyone else, do you?""Please," he said. "Please do that for me. And no one else.”

“You just put that sword away, sir, please," said the voice of Lance-Constable Vimes. "You will not shoot me, you young idiot. That would be murder," said the captain calmly. "Not where I'm aiming, sir.”

“He wasn't a romantic. Had never thought himself as sentimental. But he wanted this one last kiss. "Well", he said, his voice hoarse and grainy, "we'll always have Peru.”