hehasaheadahe,butheforeshimselfoutofbedanyway.hethinkshelooksawful,hisfaefeelsstiky,butthere’snopointhidingit.notfromron,anyway.

ronlooksathim.“heisthereasonyou’relikethis,right?”

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“notgood.”

ormaybeit’sbeauseofthewar.

heopensthedoor,letsronsee.

“youlooklikegilderoylokhart.”

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ron’ssharpintakeofbreathonfirmsthathedoeslookawful.“mate.”

essdownhisthroat,andthentriesagain.“i’mup.”

“malfoy’smumsentmymumanowl.saidshe’sworriedaboutyou.”

andhe’stootiredtoevensummontheenergytolookforhiswand.

“that’s…well,that’sgood.ithink.”

harryreallstheimageofmalfoysobbinginhiswheelhairandkeepshiseyesfirmlyontheeiling.“yeah.”

rongnesdownatharry’sfae,beforesittingonthefootofthebed.“so.malfoy’sbak,huh?”

harrysnorts.“thatbad,then.”

thetwoofthemarebothquieternow,moreintrospetive.it’smoreobviousinron,who’susuallythefirsttoblowuporgiveintohismoreexplosiveemotions.they’vefoughtoversomanythingsduringthewar,thatanyoftheirremainingdifferenesnowjustaren’timportantenoughtofightoveranymore.

harrykeepsquiet.ronknowshimbest.knowshisobsessionwithmalfoybest,beausehewastheonewhowassoagainstitthathehadtogothroughtheproessoftryingtouandit.harrydoesn’tknowwhatrononludedattheendofthatproess,butronmusthaveonludedsomethingforhimtobesoalmaboutitnow.

“that’s…awfullyfriendly.”

“howishe?”

harryrubshisfaewithhishands,rubsthestikinessofthedriedtearsoffandontohisfingers.hiseyeshurt.“thatbad?”

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hesighs,turningaroundandlyingbakdownonhisbed.hishead’sthrobbing.“howdidyouknow?”

“mustn’tbe,ifyou’relikethis.”

“mumsentyoufood.haveyoueatenyet?”

“iknow.mumouldn’tbelieveitatfirstyesterday,keptsayingatthestartthatmrs.malfoy’sprobablypnningsomething,butmerlin,harry,ithinkmum’spnningtobakeapietosendover.blueberrypies.itsoundsridiulous,butithinkwaboutyouismakingthemloser.”