“when’sitgoingtogetbetter?”he’snotsurewhohe’syellingat.draoneverhadbelievedingod,butyouhadtobmesomethingwhenyourlifehasthislevelofshitinit,andheseemslikeagoodapersonasany.“huh?whenareyouevergoingtoletmehavesomepeae?”

itwasahouse,hethoughsavagely.areallygoodhouse.thehelldiditeverdotoyou?

“weouldfixitbakup.”harry’stappinghiswandagainsthisknee,anddraohastoputhishandonhiswristtostophimfromburningaholethroughhisjeans.“i’mgoodatfixingthings.”

“ithoughtiwouldwantto.”thatwastheotherthingthatwasb,thesenseofwrongthatamefromwalkingthroughthehouse,howeverypartofhimwassreamingathimjusttoboarditallupandthrowawaythekey.“butidon’t.”

“courseyoudon’t,it’sgotratsinit.”harrystillwasn’thearinghim.helikedtofixthings,harrydid,andthiswasthebiggestprojetheouldpossiblyuake.“butweanfixthat,too.”

hereahesoutbesidehimandfindsahunkofstone,andthenarystal,pieesofhishousethattheyhadblowntokingdomome,andit’sthefirsttimethatherealizesitwasnottheiriigationthatmadehishouselookthewayitdoes.itwaspeople,peoplewhowerehurtingandangryandafraid,whostayedaftertheirshiftandbstedthispeapartpieebypieeandwatheditallraindownintoruins.

“no,imean.”drao’sryingandughingatthesametime,leaningintoh

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edampgrassthathasgrownintotanglesuptohisknees,sinkingdownintotheground,tiltinghisheadbaktostareupatthesky.

hewantstostayouthereforever,keepursingatthestars,maybeburnthewholethingdownandhimselfwithit.burnthewholeworlddownjusttoprovethatheould.buthedoesn’t,beauseharryisstillthere,walkingarossthewnlikehehadn’tnotieddrao’stantrumandsittingdownbesidehim,nevermindthatthegroundwassowetitwouldsoakthroughhisjeans.