It’sjustRon,hetellshimself.Heandhisbestfriendfaeeahotherarossthegapbetweentheirbeds.Ronexhaleshard,makinghisbrightredfringe—whihisinseriousneedofatrim—flopoutofhiseyes.
“Igetthatyou’retryingtohelpMalfoy,”Ronsays,“butyou’retooiedinthis.”
“Tooiedinsavingsomeone’slife?”Harrysays,astonished.
“That’sthething.It’snotamatterofsavinghim.It’slikesayingyouwanttosavesomeonefrom…what’sthatMugglediseaseHermionetoldusabout?”
“er,”Harrysighs.
“Right.It’snotsomethingyouanfight.”
“So,what?Igiveuponhim?Weallsitbakandlethimwasteawaytonothing?”
“No,butyoujustgotdonefightingawar,Harry.Doyoureallyneedmoregriefandsufferinginyourlife?”Ronrunsahandthroughhishair,mussingit.“Itwouldbeonethingifyourhelpouldmakeadifferene.ButHanahaki,it’s…trustme,I’veseenwhatitando.Youan’tstopit.Nooneanstopit,really.”
Harryletsthosewordssinkin,thewayRonwants.Heallowsthemtohaveimpat,totakeupspaeinhismind.Heturnsthemoverandoverandexaminesthemfromeveryangle.
Nooneanstopit,Ronsays.Butthat’snotentirelytrue.
Onepersonan,Harrythinks.
Theday,afterss,hefindsDraoattheirusualspotbytheke.Thesudyesthewatergold,andtheastle’srefletionjutsdarklythroughitsmoltenshine.
Draoliesonhisstomah,abookproppedopeninfrontofhimashesrawlsnotesonapieeofparhmentlinedfrombeingfoldedandrefoldedendlessly.That’sthesheetDraouseswhenhefindssomethingpromising;somethingthatouldreallyhelphim,ormaybeevenleadhimtoaure.Mostofwhat’sonthelisthasalreadybeensrathedout,andtoday,Harryan’tbringhimselftobelieveDraoisbrilliantenoughtoturnoneofthesesliversofhopeintoasolution.Ron’swordsareringinginhishead.
HedropsdownontothegrassbesideDrao,wholooksupwithasmirk,thekindthatusedtorileHarryupbutwasundeniablyhandsome.Notanymore,oneitherount.Itlosesitsimpatwhenhisfaeissogaunt.Lyingdownmakestheloosehangofhisrobeslessobvious,buthe’slostafrighteningamountofweight.HarrywondersifDraomightnotstarvetodeathbeforethediseaseevergetsaroundtokillinghim.
“What’swrong,Potter?Didn’tgettosignanyautographstoday?”Draosnipes,withoutheat.
“Iheardyou’rethinkingofgoingthroughwithit,”Harrysays.“Theoperation,Imean.”
ThenewshadbeenallovertheGreatHall;Harryouldn’tmissit,notevenwithhisfriendsdoingtheirbesttomaintainaMalfoy-freebubbleontheirendoftheGryffindortable.
SomethinginhistonemustmakeitleartoDraohowlittleHarrywouldbeabletohandleasarastiresponserightnow.Draositsup,gingerly,tofaehim.
“Onlyasastresort,”Draosays.“Potter,lookatme.I’mdyinganyway.I’dratherdietryingtolivethanwaitforthediseasetofinishitswork.”
“Careful.That’sgerouslylosetoaGryffindorse,”Harrysaysweakly.
“eoffit.”AhintofasmiletugsatDrao’slips.Harryan’tbringhimselftosmilebak.