“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
Andit’sthisoionagainandHarry’stense,wifwhathappenedbeforewillrepeatitself.Narissaisn’theretohelphimanymoreandHarrywouldn’tknowwhattodo.
Butthistime,Draoseemstoreonilewhathe’sseeingwithwhatever’sinhishead,andhevisiblyrexes,leaningbakonhiswheelhair.“etoobservemeinmymiserythen?”
AndHarryrealizesthatDraoremembershim,remembersalotmoreabouthim,ifhe’sgoingtogobaktooldhabitsandhisusualsnark.Hefeelsunbearablyhappyatthat.
“No,Malfoy,I’mjustheretoeatyourpanakes.”
Draofurrowshiseyebrowsathim,andthenatthepanakesonthetable.Ittakesawhileforhimtorespond,buthiseyeslearandhesays,“Getyourfilthyfingersoffmypanakes.”
“Well,you’renoteatingthem.”
Drao,ashehasalwaysdone,respondstothehallenge.Heliftsahand,reahestowardsthetable.It’sslow,buthispalmmanagestondonthefork.HisfingersshakeandHarryuands,withanotherpanginhishest,thatit’sprobablybeenawhilesineDraousedhislimbs.
Hedoesn’tthinkhishelpwillbewelome,butit’sbetterthanwathingDraostrugglelikethis,andHarrylooksup,butthewordsdieonhislipswhenheseesDrao’sgazeisvaantagain.He’snotmovinganymore.
Allofasudden,thenowfamiliarsenseofdespairtakesholdofhimandmakeshisfingersold.Hiseyesarerapidlybeomingwarmandheblinkstokeepthematbay.Aswallowpushesdownthelumpinhisthroatandadeepbreatheasesthepaininhishest,justabit.
DraoMalfoyisn’tsupposedtolooklikethis.
He’snotsupposedtobelikethis.
Withanotherdeep,shakyinhale,HarrystepsforwardandarrangesDraobakinhishair.
HeremovesDrao’shandfromthefork,andDrao’sfingersarelongandsofttothetouh,butthey’reold,andHarryrubsthemwithhisowntobringthebloodbakintothem.Nevermindthatit’shisfirsttimetouhingDraoMalfoy’shandsinethathandshakeduringfirstyear.Hishandhadbeensmallthen.Smooth,likeithadneverdoneaday’sworkinhislife.
Hishand’sbiggernow,ofourse,butit’salloused,andthenailsarebittentotheedge,orsraped,orwhateveritisthatDraodidwiththeminthosethreemonthsinhisell.
HelooksattheuntouhedpanakesandwondersifDraowillgetangryifheutsthemupforhim.
Heutsthemupanyway,beausehewantstoseeDraoangry.
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