“howertainareyou,then?”wedothingsabitbakward,iswhatharryisthinking,buthe’snotreallybotheredbyit,notwhenheanrollovertohoverontopofdrao,smilingdownathim.“like,agoodbit,oronlyasmallbit?”

“probablynot,seeingaswe’resittinginthefrontrow.”

hehadn’tsaidityet,eventhoughharryhad.hadn’tsaidit,eventhoughtheybothknewthetruth.hadn’tsaiditbeause,astheboggartproved,hewasstillterrifiedoftrustingwhatheknowstobetrue.harryhadn’tmindedthewait.butthis?thiswassomuhbetter.

“butginnywouldkillyou.”

“agoodbit.”draopretendedtothink.“atleasty-fiveperent.”

there’snothingmuhtosay,afterthat,sotheyjuststareateahother.harryhalfexeptsdraotoshyawayafterhisderation,buthedoesn’t,juststrethesoutbehhimliketherewasnothingsaryaboutthisintheleast.

“okay.”

“heyharry?”hisvoieissofternow,nojoking.

“maybey-eight.”

“y-five?”harrybitbakaughagain.“ithoughti’dbeworthy-seven,atleast.”

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harrybarksoutaugh,andthenquietsagain,tryingtoforehimselftosleep.italmostworks,butthendraoistalkingagain,hishandsearhingoutforharry’ssoheansqueezeittight.“youneedtoknowsomething.”hisvoieisalittlebitbreathless,alittlebitstrangled,andalittlebitsared.“iprobablyloveyou.”

dathiseyesuntilitstung,wifitmightjustbemoreprudenttostayupthroughthenightanddrainagallonofoffeeinthem.“it’swhatiwaspnningtodo.”

“ireal

harrysnorted.“lunawouldn’tmind.”

“imean,i’mprettysureido.ithinkido.”there’sasmileinhisvoie,andnowdraoisnotafraidanymore,apparentlyomfortedatharry’sontinuedpresenebesidehimandthefatthathewasn’ttryingtomakeanygrandderationsofhisown.“hardtotell.”

“yeah,drao?”