“shouldn’tit?”

“no.we’renotinthemanoranymore.youdon’thavetokeepanymorefavoursformymother.you’vedoneyourpart.”

“i’mnotdoingthisforyourmother.”

“thenwhatareyoudoingitfor?beauseyouwanttobefriendswithme?”draoughs,harshandderisive,andharrytriestostopthehurtfromreepingin.“it’ssuffoating,potter.gobothersomebodyelsewithyourgoddamnedheroomplex.i’msurethere’salotwho’dlovetohaveyourattention.”

it’snotw.everythingthatdraosaysstillstings.

harrylooksaway,unabletolookatdrao’ssneeranymore,notwhenhe’sgottensousedtohisfaewithoutit.“yes,malfoy,idowanttobefriendswithyou,”hemutters.hetakesadeepbreathtoeasethetightnessinhishest.“i…thoughtwealreadywere.”

hestandsup,readytoflee,readytolikhiswounds.“iguessnot.”

anddraorumplestothefloorwithadullthud.

whendraoomesto,harry’stootiredfromtheonsughtofemotionshe’sbeenthroughforthedaytoexpinwhythey’resittingontheflooroftheompartment,legsfoldedinawkwardanglestofitthetightspae,andarmspressedagainsteahother.

“welomebak,”harrysaysinstead.“ifixedyourfae.”

drao’sheadisbentgerouslylosetoharry’sshoulder.hedoesn’tmoveit.“myfaedoesn’tneedfixing.it’simpeable.”

thesmileisinharry’svoie.“mm-hmm.”

minervamgonagall,nowheadmistress,welomesallofthem.afterdeliveringashortbutemotionalspeeh,hatleavesmanystudentsdabbingattheireyeswiththeirsleeves,thesandthewelomingfeastbegins.cssesresumeasusual,withtheeighthyearsfollowingthesheduleoftheseventhyears.

butmuhisdifferent

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