faedarkensatthemessagewarmshimfromtheinside.it’sfukedup,buthelikesknowingthatheanaffetpotterlikethis.

potterunfoldsanotherletter,thenanother,thenanother,untilhe’sghroughallofthem,andherushesthestoneinhisfistwithhislipsurledindistaste.hethrowsitinthegarbagebin,andgresattheremaininglettersonthebed.“howlonghasthisbeengoingon?”hedemands.

draostartstogatherthelettersintoapile.“aweek,maybemore?”

“whydidn’tyoutellme?”potter’sangry,anddraowantstokisshisfrownaway.

it’shardwhenpotter’ssweetenoughtogetangryforhim.draoloseshiseyesandtakesadeepbreathbeforehedoessomethingstupidlikeonfess.

whenheopenshiseyes,helooksstraightatharry’sandsays,“i’mtellingyounow.”

andheknows,withthewaypotter’stenseshouldersslowlyrexandthefurrowinhiseyebrowsease,thatpotteruandsthetrustandhumilitythathe’sgivinginthatsingleatoftelling.

“givethattome,”pottermuttersinsteadandsnathesthepileoflettersfromdrao’shand.heturnsbaktohisrobesontheotherbed,andshovesthelettersinsideoneofitspoketswithagrumble.“i’mgivingthesetoprofessormgonagall.haveyoureadallofthem?”

“yes.”

“stopreadingthem.”pottersighs,fingerspressingonhistemple.“whydoyouevenkeeponopeningthem?”

draosmilesslightlyatthefrustratedfigurepotter’sbakmakes.“thoughtitmightonvineme.”

“towhat?”

“toleaveyoualone.”