Hefeelshimwathinginthedarkness,andpartofhimwantstoreahupandtouhhisfae,toslidehishanduphisarmandtraetheveinsthatstandoutagainsttheskin.Topullhimdowntohim,traealongtheedgesofthedarkmark,tellDraothatheloveshimandnothaveitberefutedonthesolebasisofwhattheyusedtobetoeahother.
“Ineversleep,”Draosays,butthereisnolongeranyfrantibreathing,andintheend,hedoesybakdownbesidehim,evenifHarryissurethatherofthemgetmuhsleep.
Thenight,Draomakeshimselfasleepingdraught.
Harrytriesnottothinkthatit’sanythingtodowithhim.
They’restillnotsleeping,eitherofthem.
Harrykeepsgoingaroundthehouse,eventhoughitwasahabitthathethoughthehadbeenabletostopagesago.Hepeeksbehindurtains,moveshairsaroundtheroomtoseeifanythingishidingbehindthem.Hepullsondoorknobsandrummagesthroughupboards,shovesthelothestoeithersideofthelosetsoheanseeallthewaytothebak.HarrymanagestostopshortofpokinghiswaythroughDrao’sroom,oinghimselfwithpressinghiseartotheheavyoakdoorandseeingifheanhearanything.
(Hedoesn’taskKreahertohekuponhim,nomatterwhatDraomighthavesuggestedthem.)
HeknowsDraoisn’tsleepingeither.Thingskeepshowingupleanerthanever,andHarrystumblesdowntothekitheninthemtofindafullbreakfastwaitingforhim,evenifthereisnoDraoinsight.Hishandsarealwaysrawandhapped,too,evenwhenHermionestartedleavingsomeofherlotionforhimtotry.
“Thisisn’tw.”Harrytellshimonenight,whenthetwoofthemfindthemselvesinthekithenatthesametime.Harryhadbeentriplehekingtheloksonthefrontdoor,andDraowassrubbingthefloorsbyhand.Heouldn’ttellwhihoneofthemwasmoreembarrassedtobeaught.“Notforeitherofus.”
“That’swhatsleepingdraughtsarefor.”Draowastalkingfromhispeontheground,thenrealizedhowitmusthavelooked,sohegotup,kneesgroaningandsoapsudsdrippingoffhishands.“That’sallIwaswaitingfor.”
Right,Harrythinks,lookingatthebuketandtheolletionofspongesontheounter.Likeyouweren’tgoingtobottleituptousetomorrowandjustkeepgoing,fromthefloortothewindowstothekithensink,andthentothebathroom,allofwhihispratiallyspotlessbeauseIknowforafatthatyouleanedthewholedownstairsthenightbefore.
“Whatever.”Harry’sannoyed,suddenly,beauseifitwasn’tforDraoandhisstubbornideathatheoulddoeverythingonhisown,Harrywouldn’thavetodothis.Instead,heouldjustwakeupandturnhisheadtothesideandreassurehimselfthatDraowasstillthere,stillalright,stillbreathing,howherofthemwereabouttobemurderedbydeatheaters.Heouldjusthektheroom,then,notthewholehouse,andwhenDraostartedwithhisompulsiveleaning,Harrywouldbeabletobringhimbaktobed.Itwouldworkoutbetterforbothofthem.
“Harry.”Harrydoesn’tturnaround,andthenthereisahandonhisarm,solightheouldignoreitbutsopleadingthathedoesn’t.“Wait.”
Harrydoeswait.Andheturnsaround,findinghimfaetofaewithasteaminggobletfullofDrao’spotion.
Partofhim,thenastypart,wantstosayno.ThatifDraodoesn’twanthishelp,Harrywon’tbetakinganythingfromhim.Buthean’tquitebringhimselftodoit.