“hey,”draoleanslosertohim,useshisfreehandtosmoothharry’swildhairbak,andreally,reallyhopesthathedoesn’trememberanyofthisinthem,beausedraoissittingwaylosertohimthanisstritlyneessary.“it’sover,alright?youwon.”

hedoesnotsaywe.draoisarefultoneversaywe.

“no.”harrysays,anddraowondersifthisiswhatmadehimdrinksomuhtonight,thememorieshidinginthatfarawaype.“it’sneverover.”

hethinksharryisjustgoingtogethisbearingsandgotobed,soheleaveshimtohisowndeviesandheadsbakintothesittingroom,whereheouldwaththestepsinaseharryneedshelpwalkingupthem.it’samistake,though,beauseharryomesoutwithtwogssesandabottleoffirewhiskey,thegoodstuffthatyouonlybuyifyou’regoingtogiveittosomeoneasagift.

“youwantone?”

he’salreadyp,anddraowantstosayno,beauseheistiredandharryhasalreadyhadtoomuhtodrinkandisonlynowstartingtosoberup,andalsobeauselinesandblurringandhefeelsliketheyareonstantlyingerofdivingintounhartedwaters,onesthattheywon’teverbeabletoomebakfrom.

“eon.”

it’sunfair,thewayharryislookingdownathim,howintimatethisfeels,withthebpiledinhispandthelightinglowandthewayharryissmilingathim,likeheknows,hasalwaysknown,thatdraoisunabletosaynotohim.thatheknowshewillnotstopharryfromgettingwhatitwants,whenitmatters.

“don’tmakemedrinkalone.”

harryshakesthedrinkathimalittle,anddraoannotstophimself,justreahesouttotakeitfromhim,likeitisnothisowndeisiontomake.

anhourter,draoisalotmoredrunkandharryisalotmoresober,andtheyarebothsittinginthew-footedbathtubthatdraohadthoughtwassoool,bothfullylothedbutsoakingwet.

hean’trememberhowtheygothere,butsomewhereinth

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