“That’sridiulous,”heblusters,“thatdoesn’tmakesense,howantherenotbeaure—”
“Thereisaure,sortof,”Roninterrupts.“He’ssikbeausehelovessomeonewhodoesn’tlovehimbak.Ifhegetslovedbak,hegetsbetter.”
RongnessidelongatHermione,andhisfaegoesfromembarrassmenttorelieftosomethingelse,somethingHarrydoesn’tfeelrightseeing,sohelooksdownathisuntouhedpteoffood.Somehowhedoesn’tthinkhe’llbefinishingit.
“It’squitesad,isn’tit,”Hermionesays.
“No,it’snot,”Harrysnaps.“Thisishisownbloodyfault.Ifhewasn’tsuhaself-entered,bigotedprat,maybesomeoneotherthanhismumwouldlovehim.”
EvenRonlooksshoked.TheotherGryffindors,absolutelyfailingtopretendtheyweren’teavesdropping,shiftminutelyawayfromhim.Harrygrabsabreadrollfromabasketinthemiddleofthetableandbitesintoitviiously,hewinglikehissdependonit.
RonunhesintoanimpromptuQuiddithdisussionaseondter,andNevillejumps—asifared-headedsomeonehadkikedhimunderthetable—andhimesin.Soon,halfthetableisovertakenbyarousingdebateaboutwho’llwintheWorldCup.Harryisanisndoffurioussileneinthemiddleofitall.Nooneisfoolenoughtotryandtalktohim.Hermionegiveshimoneofthoseinjuredlooksofhers,thesortthatdoesn’tsayyouhurtmebutratherseeingyouhurthurtsme,whihgratesonhimrightnow,beauseHarryisperfetlyfine,andsometimesHermionethinkinghe’shurtisworsethanatuallybeinghurt.
Hismouthfulofdrybreadispainfullyhardtoswallow.Helooksup,throughthegapbetweenRonandHermione’sshoulders.Draohattersathishousemates,gestiutingpassionatelyashedeliversapunhline,probablyatsomeoneelse’sexpense.It’sbusinessasusualexeptthateverysooftenhehastostopandturnaway,gaspingandsputteringashismouthfillswithpetalssowhiteevenarosstheroomitalmosthurtsHarry’seyestolookatthem.TheyfallintoDrao’splikeshardsoffrostedgss.
Dyingoflove?Hethinkshe’sneverheardanythingsopatheti;leaveittoMalfoytoesatearushtosuhstunningheightsofdrama.Hethinks,also,ofwhatDumbledorehadalwayssaidaboutlovebeingthemostpowerfulmagiofall.Hekeepsfetting—orperhapsjustdoesn’twanttobelieve—thatthispartiurmagianbedestrutive,too.
Mostofall,though,Harrythinks:whoisit?
You’dthinkHarry’stheonewho’ssik,thewaypeopleareavoidinghim.Likehe’sathingandeveneyeontatwillpassthesymptomson.
“It’ssixthyearalloveragain,”Hermionehideshim.“You’reobsessing.”
“I’mnotobsessed,”hesays,defensively.“I’mjustied,that’sall.I’veneverheardofthis.DoMugglesgetit?”
“No,”saysHermione,“andherdoSquibs.UedloveausesHanahakiDisease,butit’smagithatmakesthesymptomsmathewaytheydo.Butlisten,Harry,please,”sheadds.Shesoundsimpatient,whihisunusual,beausesheneverpassesonahanetoimpartknowledge,espeiallywhenHarry’satuallyaskingherforit.“You’refollowingMalfoyaround.BroodingovertheMarauder’sMapwhenyou’repretendingtodohomework.EavesdroppingontheSlytherins—don’tlooksosurprised,you’renogoodatbeingsneaky,Harry,Idon’tknowwhyyouthinkyouare.There’snothingyouandoforMalfoy,andsinewe’vebeengivenanone-in-a-lifetimeseondhanetodoours,weshouldreallyfouson—”
“WhosaysIwanttodoanythingforMalfoy?”Harryasks,inensed.
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