“no,malfoy,i’mjustheretoeatyourpanakes.”

“well,you’renoteatingthem.”

harryshrugsnervously.hefeelslikehe’sjustbeenaughtdoingsomethinghewasn’tsupposedtobedoing.hesupposesthatitisweirdtosuddenlywakeupandhaveyourlong-timeenemyinyourhouseeatingyourpanakes.“yeah.”

draoslowlygnesouttowardsthegarden.“isthisthemanor?”

thatwasn’tthegripofsomeonewhowantedtoservevoldemort.

thatwasjustthegripofsomeonewhowantedtostayalive.

“oh.”

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“potter.”

drao,ashehasalwaysdone

butthistime,draoseemstoreonilewhathe’sseeingwithwhatever’sinhishead,andhevisiblyrexes,leaningbakonhiswheelhair.“etoobservemeinmymiserythen?”

andharryrealizesthatdraoremembershim,remembersalotmoreabouthim,ifhe’sgoingtogobaktooldhabitsandhisusualsnark.hefeelsunbearablyhappyatthat.

“yeah.”

draofurrowshiseyebrowsathim,andthenatthepanakesonthetable.ittakesawhileforhimtorespond,buthiseyeslearandhesays,“getyourfilthyfingersoffmypanakes.”

heturnsaway,fromdrao’ssofthairandthememoriesoffire.

andit’sthisoionagainandharry’stense,wifwhathappenedbeforewillrepeatitself.narissaisn’theretohelphimanymoreandharrywouldn’tknowwhattodo.

harryseesthemomentthatdraoonfirmsthathereallyisindeedharrypotter.

hepiksuphisfork,takesapanakefromtheservingpte,andletsitploponhisown.

hisforkdropsinsurprise.flushing,helooksup.“malfoy.”

“you’re…”malfoysquints.

aboveandoutoftheinferno.