Hepausedinhisstride,fightingtheurgetogobak.Heouldn’tgobak,hereallyouldn’t.HedoubtedProfessorMGonagallwasstillup,butthepossibilitythatDraoalledherdownwastoogreat.Notthathispresenewouldhangeanything.Hewouldeathisownshoesifhewasn’tonthetrainbaktoKing’sCrossattheendofthesummer.Hemukeditup.Butdidn’thealways.
Heresumedhiswalkofshamebaktowardshisorridors.Hewouldbeginpakingtonight.Hedidn’tknowwherehewouldgo.Well,baktoGrimmauldPe,obviously,buthedidn’tknowwhathewoulddo.Thehope,orratherthefantasy,thatDraohadwantedhim,eveninasmallway,hadreallybeenoneoftheonlythoughtshehadtakensoeinsinethewar.Andnow…andnowheknewthatDrao,aliveandwell-well,aliveandbreathingandbetterthandead,ifnotexatlywell—wantedhimbutwouldn’thavehim.Orwantedhim,butnotenough.Orhadwantedhim,atsomepoint,butdidn’tanymore.
Hemarvelledatthefatthatitdidn’tmakehimfeelanybetter,toknowthatinsomepeandtimeofDraoMalfoy’slife,hehadfeltsomethingforHarry.Buthesupposedthatwasbeausetheknowledgemadeallofhisimaginedlossesreal.Theawkwardfirstfewmealstheywouldhavesharedafterthewar,bothworriedthattheotherwasjustgoingthroughthemotionsofbeingiviltohelpmovealongthepost-warunitymovement.Thefirstfewautioustouhesthatwouldleadthembothtooverthink,beausesurely,surelyhehadn’tmeant—Buthadhe?Andwhentheyrealizedthattheotherhadmeantit,thentheywouldbefaingalltherebuildingtheyhadtodo,personally,globally,togetherinsteadofseparatelyandsoinrediblyalone.Andmaybethey’dhavefought,sreamedateahotheruntiltheywerehoarse,thrownthings,madeanabsolutetipofGrimmauldPewiththesmallwarstheywagedeverynight,whihwaswhateveryonewouldhaveexpeted.Butmaybetheywouldhavebeenhappy.Harrylikedtothinkthey’dhavebeenhappy.
ButDraohadbeendead.Hehadbeendead,sotherewasbeyondadoubtnopossibilityofthesethoughtsbeingmorethanafantasy.Butnowhewasalive,andifonlyDraowasn’tsosared,ifonlyMGonagallwasn’tsoareful,heouldtry.Itdidn’thavetowork,butgod,hewishedtheyouldtry.
Chapter7
“Mr.Potter,itisratherte.”
“I’msorry,Professor,Irealizethisisaninonveniene.Ifitweren’timportant,Iwouldhavewaiteduntilm,”Harrysaid,fidgetingnervouslyontheothersideofMGonagall’sdesk.“Ineedtomakethisright.”
“Mr.Potter,Ihaven’ttheslightestideaastowhatouldbesowrongthatitwarrantedmakingrightattwointhem,”MGonagallsighed.“Iwasundertheimpressionthattheseunfortunatetenightmeetingsofourswouldendwithyourlearningtobehavelikeanadult.”
“That’swhatIamtryingtodo,Professor.Intellingyou.”
“Tellingmewhat?”
“Ilovehim,Professor.Ilovehimandforhissafety,IfeellikeitwouldbebetterthatIleft,”Harrysaid.“I’msureyouagree.”
MGonagallfroze.
“I’msureIdon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“Thewolf.He’snotsomuhwhiteasheisblonde,isn’the?Haveyoueverseenablondewolf?”
“I’mnotpartiurlywellversedintheolorationpatternsofwolves,Mr.Potter,”MGonagallrepliedslowly.
“Therewasn’tabody,”Harryontinued.
“Whatdoyoumeanabody?Doyoususpetthewolfofhavingkilledsomeone?Surelynotastudent,therearenoneleftonthegrounds.”
“Professor,you’resmarterthanthis.Don’tdomethedisservieofpretendingyouaren’t.Hismother’stestimonywastheonlyreasonwehadtobelievethepileofasheswashim.Therewasnoidentifiablebody.”