butthosearethemomentsthatharrylooksforwardtothemost,humbledbythetrusthe’sbeinggiven.

draotellshimaboutgoyleone.

harrytellshimastoryaboutthemarauders.

(heriesduringthatone.hetalksandtalksandtalks,untilherealizeshe’sryingandhisvoieisn’tomingoutanymore,andhedoesn’tgettofinish,butdraoalreadyknowstheendinganyway.)

onthenightthatnovemberends,harryisloungingonhis—ithasn’tbeen‘goyle’s’forawhilenow—bed,staringatthegreenurtainsfallingfromthebed’sanopy.theolourisstartingtogrowonhim.helikesitbestonpaleskin.

“somethingthatastoriasaiddisturbsme.shesaidshethoughtimightnothavewantedtotalktoher,justbeauseshe’saslytherin,”hestarts,re-imaginingthatpartiurmemory.

draolooksupfromhistextbook,andtiltshisheadatthesuddentopi.heislyingdownonhisbed,hishestonthemattress,inonlyhisreguruniformafterhavingthrownhisrobesoverthehair.hishairistousledfromrollingoveronthebedsomuh,andharry’sbeentryingnottolook(orstare)athim.

“we’renotexatlywell-liked,potter.youknowthatbest.”

harrysmileswryly,reallingtheutterdislikeheusedtohaveforanybodywearinggreen.then,hereallsdraointhemanor,narissaintheforest,andsnapeintheshriekingshak.“ialsoknowbest,now,thatnoteverythingisassimpleasbkandwhite.”hegnesatdrao.“i’mstilivebeauseofalotofslytherins,youknow.”

oneedgeofdrao’slipsquirkupintoasmallsmile,asifhe’sstimusedthatharry’sstillglorifyingthem.“thereneedstobeavilininanarrative.that’swhatwe’reherefor,”hemurmurs,eyestravelingtohislothedarm.“that’showthebaneworks.”

harryfollowshiseyeswithhisownandtakesadeepbreath.“theshatwantedtoputmeinslytherin.”

immediately,drao’sheadshootup.he’sstaringatharryindisbelief.“what?”

harrygrinsathim.“itoldhimididn’twanttobeputhere.”

“youanhoose?”

“well,itisourhoi

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