Harry’swaitingforhiminthelivingroom.Helookslost,standingthere,likehean’tquitefigureoutwhathe’sdoingorwhyhewouldbestandingthere,stillpreparingforthethreat.Adrenalinehighsandothattoyou.
“Youalright?”Draowantedtogotohim,buthealsoknewthatompanymightnotbewelome,sohehungbak.
“Yeah.”Harrysmiled,eventhoughhiseyeswerestilldartingaroundtheroom.Draohadthefeelingthatthiswouldbeoneofthenightswherehewokeuptothesoundoffootstepsreakingontwistedfloorboards,wherehewouldpretendnottoknowthatHarrywasupandabout,hekingtheloksandtheshadowedornersforintruders.“I’msorryImadeyouworry.”
“Don’tthinkaboutme.”Draodughisfingersintothebontheouh,buryingthemdowntotheknukles.It’seasiertohaveoionslikethiswhenthere’ssomethingtoholdonto.“Youdowhateveryouhaveto.”
“Alwaysdo.”
Harrystilllookedlost,andnowhelookedalittlebitteraboutthewholething,soDraothoughtitwouldbeokaytoirletheouhandomeuptohim.Hehesitatesbeforegettingloser,butthenhereahesoutandgrabsHarry’shand,swinginghisarmbakandforthbetweenthem.
ItdrawsHarrybaktothemoment,alittle.Hestilllookslost,butthere’ssomethinglearerabouthisexpressionwhenheraiseshisfreehandtobrushagainstDrao’sheek,rightoverwherethefrostingwas.
He’sprobablyjustsmearingitaround,Draothinks,bitingdownonhislip.Thisisnothelpinganything.
(Shit,it’snot.He’stheonewhothrewthefitaboutnotbeinganythingmorethanroommates,andhereheis,atinglikearightarsebygettingallupinhisfae.)
“I’mgoingtoomebakhome,youknow.”Harrywhispers,andDraowantstobakup.HealsowantstoiinsomeofthoselightballsthatHermionehasatherpe,beauseandlelightissonothelping.“Who’sgoingtotakeareofyouifI’mnothere?”
Youdon’teventakeareofmenow,Draothinks,butthat’salie,soheamendsittoIdon’tbelongtoyou,whih,dependingonwhatwayyoulookatit,isalsoalie.
“ProbablyLuna.”Stoptalking.Stepaway.Talkaboutthedamnake,atleastkillthemood,willyou?“She’lladoptme,stikmeinwiththegnargles.”
Harryughs,dukinghisheaddowntohidehisexpression,buryinghisfaeinDrao’sshoulder.Draostiffensandtriestostandasstillashean,digshisfingersintothebakofHarry’ssweateruntilhestraightensupagain.Whenhedoes,hisfaeisalotalmer,likethehaosofthebattlehadfinallybeenknokedoutofhim.
“Yeah.”He’slettinggo,steppingaway,andDraowantstopullhimbak.Kisshim,youidiot,weren’tyoujustthinkingaboutallthethingsyouwouldnevergettosayifhedidn’tomehome,butno,thiswasnotadeisiontomakeatfourinthem.Thistime,therewasnodrinkstohidebehind,nopotiontobmeiton,nofriendstotearthemapart.Here,now,itwasonlythetwoofthemandwhateverationstheytookwouldhaveverystingimpressions.“Probablywould.”