“itkeptmefromgivingintotheterrorthatthedementorswantedmetofeel.butthemoreididit,theeasieritgot,andtheharderitwastoomebak.”

hiseyestraethemaponemore,downtothedungeons,andontheribbonthatreadsharrypotter.

“yourememberthestateiwasinwhenifirstgotoutofthatpe.”

thebedshifts,anddraoanimaginepotternodding.

“butitgotbetter,didn’tit?itbeamelessfrequentthestfewtimesiwenttothemanor.”

“mm,”draosaysinreply.“mymothersaysitmightbearepse.”

“why?”

draoreallshissummerdaysinthemanor.hereallsthehappinesshefelt,thefrighteningunfamiliarityofitafterallthosemonths—afterhewasgiventhemark,hismission,andthatsoul-grippingfearofwhatthedarklordmightdotohisfamilyshouldhefail.andhereallsthinkingthen,thattheworldisn’tsuhabadowakeupto,ifhewokeuptobananapanakesandbright,greeneyes.

andthenhereallsthefollowingweeksafter.

potterwithhisfriends,alwaysinthedistane,alwaysontheothersideoftheroom,hisgreeneyesnowlookingelsewhere.

draoknowswhy.buthe’snotgoingtotellpotterthat.

“ihavenoidea,potter.”

“ishouldgo,”pottersays,sittingupwithasigh.“ronwillbeworried.”

draonodsmutely,beausehe’snotabouttodosomethingstupidlikeaskpottertostay.thethrobbinginhisheadhadlessenedtoadullthrob,andsohetriestositbakupagain.

potterisarranginghisrobesaslyashean,beforehetakesouthiswandagain,tapsthemap,andsays,“mishiefmanaged.”

theinkdisappearsinaheartbeat

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