oldmethatthishelpsyousleep,too,orwasthatjustsomethingtomakemefeelbetter?

“yeah.”draostillwasn’tmovingover,notlikehealwaysdid.hewasjustsittingthere,staring.“good.great.”

ittakesanembarrassinglylongtimeforharrytogetit.timewherehethinksabouthowthiswasabouthim,allfromsomefaulthedidnotknowhehad,anoffensethathehadnotmeant.ittakeshimthroughhanginghislothesandbrushinghisteethandwashinghishandstwiejusttofeeltheoldwaterrunoverhiswristsuntilheturnsbaktothebedandrealizesthatsomethingwasdifferent.

draowaswearingashortsleeveshirt.

thefataloneshouldn’thavemeantanything.it’sweird,nowthatharrystopstothinkaboutit,thathehadneverseenhisroommateinashortsleeveshirtbefore,nowthatitisapproahingspringandthehousegetsunbearablystuffy.thathewouldhoosetobeompletelyoveredwhenheshimselfaroundharryandgetsburiedunderhalltheovers.

(thisisoneofthosemomentswhereheanhearhermione’svoieinhishead,moaningonaboutboysandhowimpossiblyobtuseyouare,harry,ian’tbelieveitandyou’vegottheemotionalrangeofatablespoon,harry,whihisbetterthanronbutnotbymuh.)

itmeansthatforthefirsttimeduringtheirstaytogether,harryanseethedarkmark.

hetriestoatlikeeverythingisnormal.helimbsintobed,pullsuptheovers,turnssoheislyingwithhisheadproppedupondrao’sshoulder.triestopretendthatheisnotstaringattheshadowofitagainstdrao’sskin.