“Butyoursymptomsdidn’tstartuntilyouweresixteen.Lessthantwoyearsgo,”Mrs.Malfoyprotests.
“Beausethat’swhenIrealizedwe’dhattherewasnohope,”hesays.“Therewasapointwhennotevenmywildestdelusionsouldhavemademebelievewe’d—itdoesn’tmatter.”
Mrs.Malfoyopenshermouthtoargue,butDraoswingshislegsoverthesideofthebed.Histhroatworksasifhe’stryingtoholdbakaough,butitesapeshiminapuffofairandpetalsbeforehebendsdownandgrabsforasmallbinsomeonehadleftbesidethebed.Whenthefloodsubsides,thebinisnearlyoverflowingwithlilies.Draorestshisforeheadonhiskneeandtakesinarattlingbreath.Hisvoie,whenhespeaks,ishoarse.
“We’rewastingourtime,”hesaysquietly,lookingatnoone.“They’vesaidtheyan’tdoit.”
“Isupposeyou’repleased,”Mrs.Malfoysays,withamixtureofangerandworrythatmakeshersoundstartlinglylikeMrs.Weasley.“Youwerelookingforareasontosayno.”
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutitanymore.”Draosrubshissleeveoverhismouth.Therobesarehangingoffhim,Harryrealizes,andwhenhegetstohisfeethetiltsalittleasifhemightfalloveranymoment.Still,heliftshispointyhinandstraightensuphisbonyframeandhobblesoutoftheroomwithasmuhgraeasheanmanagewhileamonstrousgardenyssiegetohisinnards.
Harry,inhisdarkornerundertheretivesafetyoftheloak,isreeling.DraoMalfoy—thestupid,slimybullywhoneverletaneasytargetgountormented;theonewho’dbeenbothSnape’sandUmbridge’spet;theonewho’dgoneandgotaDarkMarksppedonhisarm—isinlove.
No,morethanthat.
DraoMalfoyissoinlovenoteventhemostadvanedmedialmagitheWizardingWorldhastoofferandoanythingaboutit.DraoMalfoyissoinlovehisbodywouldshutdownanddieifthatlovewastakenfromhim.DraoMalfoy’sloveforthismysteriousindividualisfoundationaltowhoheis.
Harry’sheadspins.Noneofthismakesanysense,notunlessDraoisinlovewithsomeDeathEaterlokedupinAzkabanrightnow.ThethoughtsendssuhawaveofdisgustroilingthroughHarrythathemusthavemadeasound,beauseProfessorMGonagalllooks—hewould’veswornonGryffindor’sgrave—straightathim.
Harryholdshisbreath,butheissuddenlyasertainashe’deverbeenaboutanythingthatsheknowshe’sthere.Butshesaysnothing,andafterafewmoments,sheturnsaway.Heletsoutthebreathhe’dbeenholding—softly—andstartsshufflingtothedoor,notwantingtopushhislukanylonger.
“Gentlemen,”MGonagalltellstheHealers.“Thankyouformakingthejourney,andforexaminingmystudent.Although,Imustonfess,yourdiagnosisleavesmeheavy-hearted.”
“Hanahakiisaomplexafflition,”saysHealerRoss.“Thereisstillmuhwedonotuand.Tellme,istherenohanetheboy’sbelovedreturnshisfeelings?”
Obviouslynot,Harrythinks,alreadyhalfwaythroughthedoor.Otherwisehewou
请大家记住网站新地址http://.123.
御宅屋自由小说阅读网