“Yeah,thatblokefromthe—uh—yourdepartment,”Rongulped.“Sableton?Hewasleadingthemout.Theylookedrough,buttheywerealright.”
Hermionesatbakdown,amillionquestionsinherhead.Itouldwait.Itwouldhavetowait.Shewasexhausted.“OhthankGod,”shemanaged.“Wehadn’theardfromthemsinethisafternoon.”
Ronsnorted.“YoushouldhaveseenwhatHarrywaswearing.”
“Willyoustoppaing?”Draosaidirritably.“Ian’toratewhenyou’remakingyourbestefforttowearaholeinthefloor.”Harrygredathim.They’dbeenintheroomforabouttwentyminutes.Draohadsettowork,makingitlooklikehewasattemptingtorepairtheTimepiee.Harryhadbeenwwhattheyweresupposedtodo.Atleast,hehadbeensilentlyandyetsomehowveryloudlyexpressinghimselfwithheavysighs,shakesofhishead,andthetensepullofhisfae.
Harryfinallyhadsatonthesofatogetoffhisnervousfeetandhadhosentostareattheemptyspaethatwouldeventuallyholdtheaseboard.Draodeidedtobehowithhim,ifonlybeauseitwastheeasiestwaytostopHarryfromthinkinghimselfintoastupor.Pointingtotheemptyspae,hesaid,“AfterIleave—afterIleftthepenthousethism,wellbeforethei,Iwenttohavesometea.IgatheredmynotesandanythingZivantushadgivenmeandametothisroomintheteafternoon.”Draostoppedandwonderedattheoinidenethathisroomassigterthatdaywouldbetheverysameroom.
HeouldtellHarrywasstaringathimbutDraofixedlyfousedonthebakoftheTimepiee.“What—?”
“Yourthoughtsarelouderthanthatinfernalmusiatthenightlub,”DraoofferedanddaredtogneatHarry.Atthementionofthenightlub,Harrytensed.
“ingbakwaspointless,”Harrystarted.Heshookhishead.“Wean’tevengetValentine.”
Draofrowned.“Wewouldn’tknowabouthimifwehadn’tomebak.”HewonderedifbeingtasklessinthehotelroomhadausedHarrytoregretthemomentsthey’dsharedearlier.IfDraothoughtbaktothoseseondswhereit’dseemedasiftherewasnothingbutthefeeloftheirownbreathbetweenthem,hewouldfeelexposed.Harryhadpeeledawayyershedidn’tknowhe’dhad,andhestillwasn’tsureifthatsimplifiedhisfeelingsforHarryorsomehowmadethemmoreompliated.“Anditwasn’tpointlesstome,Harry.”
Harryrossedhisarmsandfrowned,theunmistakablelookofshamewashingoverhim.Sothatwasit,then?DraosupposedheshouldhaverealizedHarrywouldn’treiproate.Wasittheirhistory?Drao’sMark?Orthefatthathewasaman?HeputdowntheoolmetalinhishandandleanedovertostareatHarry,suddenlyunabletodoanythingelseuntilhefoundoutwhy.“Withinthesefourwalls,rightnowinthismoment,anwepromiseeahotherhoy?”
“I’malwaysho—”
“Don’tgivemethatbullshit,Harry,”Draoreplied,hopinghisbrashtonewouldpushHarryfarenoughtoanswertruthfully.SometimesDraothoughtHarry’sangerwasthemosthothingabouthimapartfromhisloyalty,bravery,andempathy.
Harry’sfaeflushedwithanger.“Thereyougo!Youwanthoy,Drao?HalfthetimeIan’teventhinkbeauseyoumakemesobloodyangry!”Heshotupandwalkedintotheentraneway,hisbakturned.Hestoodstillforafewminutes,butDraoknewhewasn’tdone.Harry’sadmissionsurprisedhim,though,“Youwereright.BakatZivantus’house.”HarryturnedandfousedonDrao,hisgazeinseure.“Youweresupposedtobethisirredeemablegit.Thelinesweredrawn,anditwaseasy.”
“Itwas,”Draooffered.
“Yes!AndyouandIhadourroles.Youwerehorrible,Drao.YoutooktheMark,andyouwerehorrible,sidingwithhim.Peoplediedbeauseofyou,”Harryshookhishead,whimselfupagain.Helosedhiseyesandtookadeep,unsteadybreath.“Peoplediedbeauseofmetoo,though.AndIalwaysknewwhyyoudidwhatyoudid,andthatmademeevenmadder.Ididn’twanttouandyou.Whenyouliedforme?Whenyoushoutedmynamethatnight?Itfilledmewithrage.Youweren’tsupposedto—”Draoouldn’ttellifhisheartwassinkingatHarry’swordsorfillingwithsomerare,twistedhope.Harryshuddered.“You’dhanged.”
Draohadn’trealizedhe’dbeenluthinghislegsinafirmgripuntilHarry’swordssentawaveofreliefthroughhimandhe’dletgo.
“Butnow?You’rethis—thisgoodguy.You’reativelygood,betterthanmeeven,bloodyhellDraoyou’reanUnspeakable!”Harry’sfaewashedwithfear.“Themagnitudeofthisase—thereperussions,whatweouldbeupagainst—”DraorealizedthatnotonlyhadHarrybeenseeinghiminanewway,buthe’dbeenpulledbakintoatypeoffearfuluaintyremiofthedaysofVoldemort,andthelinebetweenthepastandthepresenthadblurred.AsifsensingDrao’suanding,Harryontinued,“We’reonthesamesidenow,wewantthesamethings,it’s—”HarrywalkedbakandstoodarossfromDrao,theoffeetablebetweenthem.Hesighed,“Sorry,I’vebeenranting,and—Ijust—Idon’tevenknowwhatI’msayinganymore.You’verippedmeopenwithallofthisspillingoutinthemiddleofthisase.”Harrysatinoneofthearmhairs,alookofdefeatonhisfae.“I’mashamedthatthisisallIanthinkaboutwhenBertrieisstilloutthere.”
DraoalmostughedasHarry’swordsalleviatedhisfears.Helikedhislips.“Youknowyou’retheapersonI’veevermet,Harry,”heputupahandtosileneanyreplyuntilhe’dfinished.“I’mnotsayingit’sabadthing;it’sjustwhoyouare.Therewillalwaysbesomethingthatrattlesyou,it’swhatmakesyouso,sostrong,soreadytofightforsomething.Todosomething—insteadofsittingandwaitingfortheoutometorevealitself.”Draosmiled,“Ittookm
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