ementremindshimthathestillhasaheadaheandsoheliesbakdownonthemattress.it’sludirous,that’swhatthiswholethingis.

potterbeinghere,beingsomeddlesomewithhimandhislife,andhimenjoyingit.enjoyingpotter’sattention,histime,hisonern,andthosegodawfulsmilesthathesendsdrao’swaywhendrao’ssaidsomethingpartiurlyfunny.

hewantspottertostop.hedoesn’tdeserveit.

thedarkmarkburns,hotandheavyonhisforearm,underhissleeve.hethrowsitoverhiseyes,andtakesadeep,shudderybreath.hethankshislukystarsandwhateverhigherbeingthereisintheskythatnothinghappenedtoeitherofthemtoday,beausehedoesn’tthinkheanfivehimselfifsomethinghadhappenedtopotterallbeausehewasrazyenoughtowanderwherehe’snotsupposedtowanderandstupidenoughtofallinlove.

“time,don’tdoit.mylife’snotworthyours.”

thereisapause,hatstslongenoughforthetearstoprikhiseyes,beforepottermurmurs,“that’sformetodeide.”

draoughs,lowandempty.“youan’tsaveeveryoneallthetime.”

“iknow.butiwantedtosaveyou.”

“itgoteasier,themoreididit,”draofindshimselfexpiningawhileter.

he’sstilllyingvertiallyonthebed,turnedtohisside,wathingtheribbonsofnamesglideoverthemap.potterdidn’tgobaktotheotherbedanymoreandhadsettledforlyingdownhorizontally,justbelowthepillows.histhighisjustabovedrao’shead.

draohadjustsifiedhislothesandhisbed,unabletostandthegritandthedirtanymore,whenpotteraskedifheknewthatitwastheforbiddenforesthewaswalkingto,whihevolvedintotheoiontheyarehavingnow.