owsthishouseissafe—hermionehadensuredit,andhisountlesshekingofeverylokandornerandreviemeantthattherewasnowaysomeoneouldsneakinunnotied.therewasnovoldemorttohaseafterhim,nodementorsleehingawayhishappiness,novengefuldeatheaterslurkingintheshadowstopayhimbakforwhathehaddotheirmaster.

still,thatdoesn’tstophimfromthrowingbaktheoversandgrabbingathiswandinamatterofseonds,sprintingdowntheorridortowardsdrao’sroom,towardsthesreams,readytofightoffwhatevermightbehurtinghim.

onlythere’snothingthere.

there’sonlydrao,sittingupwiththesheetspooledaroundhishipsandhishandspullingonhishair,bentoveratthewaist,takinginbreathsthatweresoraggedthattheysoundedlikeithurt,tearsstreamingdownhisfaeashetriestoalmhimselfdown.andnowtherewasharry,whohadthrewthedooropensoharditatuallyrakedthewallbehindhim,standingtherejuststaringatdrao,withwandluthedinhishandandaurseathislips.

“what?”draowasonthedefensiveinawaythathehadn’tbeenforalongtime,maybeshefirstnightheamehere,butharrysupposesbeingaughtinamomentsovulnerablewouldauseanyothrowtheirwallsbakup.still,hedoesn’twantittoturnintoafight,notwhenthingswerejustseemingtosettleintosolidground.

“nothing.”harryrealizesheisstillpointinghiswandandlowershisarm.ittakesanotieableefforttoslidehiswandbakintohispoketandstoplookingintotheornersforaninvisibleenemy,anextremeforeofwilltoremindhimselfthateverythingisokay,thattheyaresafe,thatdraoishereandwhole,evenifheisn’tompletelyhappy.“ijust—”

justwhat?justheardyoursreamsandthoughti’domerunningtosaveyoulikeprinecharming,andthenyouwouldthrowyourselfintomyarmsa