angryisbetter.anythingisbetterthanthis.

whendraoomestoagain,thepieesofpanakeonhisptehavegoneold.harry’salreadyonhisthird.

“wipethatsyrupoffyourfae,potter,”isdrao’swayofgreetinghim.

harrydoesitautomatially,outofshokandembarrassment.“you’rebak,”hestatesdumbly.

“ididn’tleave,”draomutters,gringathispte.harrydoesn’tknowifdrao’sgringatitoutofspite,orifheremembersthatitwasn’tutupthirtyminutesagoandisnowtryingtoreallhowitgottothatstate.finally,draoraiseswearyeyesathimandasks,“didyoujustsliemypanakes?”

harryshovesmorepanakesinhismouth,justtosavehimtheawkwardnessoftalking.henodswhilehewing.

draogoesbaktogringatthepanakes,andharryfinisheshisthirdpanakemehanially.onehe’sdoneandthere’snothingleftonhispteforhimtostuffhismouthwith(andthere’snomoreexuseforhimtoshutup),hetries,“doyouwantmetofeedyou?”

hebraeshimself,readieshimselftostandupandrunshouldaforkomeforhishead,butdraojustsnortsandlooksathimpointedly.“weasel’sgoingtohaveananeurysmfromughingtoomuhifhefindsoutthatyou’refeedingmebreakfast.”

heraisesanarmandtriestourlhisfingersaroundtheforkagain.

it’sslowandit’sshaky,butdrao’sthereandhe’strying,soharrygetsanotherpanakeandrespetfullylooksaway.

he’snotreallyhungryanymore.infat,he’sfukingfull,buthelikesthis,eatingpanakeslikethis.bythetimehe’sfinishedeatingthefourth,draohasmanagedtoswallowthreepiees.there’ssyruponhispandthefrontofhisnightgown,andthere’salsosomedrippingdownhisarm,bu

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