“Yourfriend’sadeatheater?”Harryreognizedthevoie.ItwassomeonefromHogwarts,someoneheprobablyatelunhwith,pyedagameofpikupQuiddithwith.That’stheworstthingaboutallthishate,howitdividesthem.“Thoughtbetterofyou,Potter.Thoughtyoufoughtagainstpeoplelikehim.”
“You’rewrong.”Hesays,notknowingwhatheissaying,justthatDraoisbleedingandhurtandsaredandHarrydidnotstopit.“Ifoughtformyfriends.ForthepeopleIloved.Andnowhe’soneofthem.Soyoushouldgetgoing.”
Itworks,finally.Twoonthreeareoddstheyarenotwillingtofae,espeiallyifoneofthosetwohadkilledthedarklordlessthensixmonthsago.“Fine.”TheguyspitsatHarry’sfeet.He’sjustgditisn’thisfae.“Buttimeit’saduel.”
Harrysnorts.“Lookingforwardtoit.”
Theyleave,andDraomakesasoundthatHarrytakesforasobbutisatuallyjustaugh.He’sinhysteris,rightthereinthisdirtyalleywithhisbrokennose,andHarrydoesn’treallyknowwhattodowiththat,soherouhesonthegroundbesidehimtogetabetterlookathisfae.
Helikshistongue,beausethat’swhatHermionealwaysdidwhentheywerehurt,andthenusestheendofhisshirtsleevetolearawaysomeoftheblood.“It’salright,Drao.”Hesanarmaroundhisshoulderandthenpullshimtohisfeet.“We’llgetyousortedout.”
Drao
Gettingbeatupsuks.
It’shappeningmoreandmoreoften,tely,butnoneasbadasthisone.IttookHarryahalfhourtopathhimup,buteventhatwasn’tasbadastheideathatHarryhadseenthat,hadhadtoresuehimfromthat,likesomesortofdamselindistress.AndevenworsewasthefatthatDraohadn’tevenfought.
(That,hethinks,isthebiggestdifferenebetweenhimandHarry.Harrywouldneverstopfighting.)
“MaybeIshouldbeanauror,afterall.”Harry’sughisalittledryforittobefunny,butDraostillsnapshisheadupwhenhesaysit.“Wasgoodatit.”
Hewas.He’dbeagreatone.“Don’tbeomeoneonmyaount.”
He’sonlyhalfjoking,butHarryisn’twhenhereahesoutandupsDrao’sfaeinhishand,histhumpbrushingoverwhereDrao’sliphadsplit.“Who’sgoingtolookoutforyouifIdon’t?”
Somewhereinthebakofhismind,Draoknowsthathedoesn’tmeanhim,speifially.Hemeansanyonewhoeverhadbeendisriminatedagainst,whohadfeltwhatitwasliketobedraggedtotheendofadarkalleyandnotknowifyouareomingoutagain.Theommonpeople.Still,itmakeshimang
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