didhethinkthatmalfoywasgoingtogetoutofazkabanokayandtheyangothroughtheireighthyearinpeaeandeverything’sgoingtobealrightandeveryone’sgoingtofinallybehappy?

ormaybe,maybehe’sryingbeauseofeverythinghehadn’tbeenabletoprevent.

remus.tonks.fred.snape.dumbledore.cedri.sirius.god,sirius.

andnowdraomalfoylosinghismindinazkaban.

heshouldhavebeenabletopreventatleastthat,right?

thewar’sover.whyarethosearoundhimstillsuffering?

maybehe’stired.

he’stiredtryingtoavoidthepress,tryingtoavoidtheministry,tryingtoavoidtheburrowandtheweasleys’insisthathe’sfamilynow,eventhoughhe’snot,notreally,andhefeelslikeanintrudertotheirgriefwhentheyseehimandhavetopretendthatthey’renotmason,abrother.

he’stryingtoavoidhimselfmostofall,beausehe’sspentnightsaloneingrimmauldpeandthosenightswerelongnights,strethingimpossiblyfurther,asdarkasaforest(darkasdeath),asquietastheafterlife(likewhitenoise)(theafterlife’snotthatpeaeffterall),witheahtikofthelokehoingthroughthewallsandountingallthepeoplethathelost.

butseeingdraomalfoylikethatremindshim,foreshimtoseethatavoidingtheproblemdoesn’treallyfixit,kindofmakesitbiggerandmoredaunting,andthatyes,thewar’sover,butthatdoesn’tmeanthateverything’sokay.

everyone’sstillsufferingandhe’sstillsufferingandmaybehe’snotyetdonelosingpeopleafterall.

hemanagestogethimselfoffthefloorandtowardsthefirepeinthemasterroom,takingthelibertytofloohimselfbaktogrimmauldpe.

thenightisstilllonganditisstilldarkandthehouseisstillquiet,unbearablyso,sohelokshimselfinhisroomanddoesn’temergeuntilron’sknokingonhisdoortheday.

agneattheloktellshimit’spastlunhtime.

duringthenight,exhaustedandeyesswollenafterryingsomuh,hehadsomehowfallenasleep,andforthis,heisgrateful.hedoesn’tknowhowheouldhavesurvivedthatwholenightawake.

“harry,”omesron’svoiefromtheothersideofthedoor,andit’ssoftandareful,andharryknowsathatronknowssomething.

“i’mup,”harrysays,voieraking.heswallowsthedryn

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