(Besides,iftheuniversewasevergoingtosendhimasigntotellhimthathewasmakingamomentousmistake,havingafightbreakoutjustbeforeheouldhokeoutthewordswasaprettygoodone.)
“Whennothingissared,notargettosmall,everythingbeomesapeofuainty.”Draoisstilltalking,stillstaringoutthewindow.“Everythingissomethingtheyandestroy,eventhethingsthatdon’tseemtomattermuh,outsideofwhattheymeantothepeoplewhoareaboutit.”
“Weshouldhaveknown.”Ginnyiswhitefaedwiththepain,andshehastospeakthroughgrittedteeth.Lunahasnotlefthersidesinetheygothere,herhandsflutteringfromhershoulderstoherhairtohoverwherethebreakswere,butitwasn’tenough.“Weshouldhaveknownthefightwouldn’tendwithhim.There’salwayssomethingleftover.”
Howouldwehaveknown?Harrythinks,whentheyallnod,grimfaedwiththeirfearandtheresignationofthebattlesyettoome.We’rekidspyingatawarwedon’tknowhowtofight.
“What’somingwillome,”Hehearshimselfsay,beauseheistheleader,always,alwayshadthatthrustuponhimevenwhenhedidnotwantit,andhehastosaysomethingtoeasethefear.“Andwe’llmeetitwhenitdoes.”
Chapter27
Harry
sideringthatHarryhadlivedinadormitorywithourotherboysformostofhislife,hehadhadhisshareofmomentswherehewalkedinonsomeonedoingsomethingtheyshouldn’t,orthattheydidn’twantotherstoknowabout.LikeNevillewritinginhisdiarythatataloguesthewell-beingofhispnts,orwhenheathesRonreadingthepaperbakromanesthatHermionehadinallyboughtforhimasajokebirthdaypresentorthatonetimewhenhewalkedinonSeamusandDeankissingbeforetheywerereadyforanyonetoknowabout.
Sohegetstheprotool.Abouthowsometimespeoplelivingtogetherstillwanttheirspae,andthattheotherpersonsometimesbargesinonaprivatemomentwithoutmeaningto.Thattherearethings,sometimesnotevenbadthings,justprivatethings,thattheotherpersondoesnotshouttotheworld.Howyouhavetofightpasttheembarrassmenttomakeyourexusesandexittheroom,andafewhourster,you’llbothbeoverit.
It’swhatHarryshouldbedoingrightnow,onlyheouldn’tfigureoutwhatDraowouldbedoingthathe’sembarrassedabout.
“Hey.”Itwaste,whihmeantthathewasalreadyasleep.Harryhadn’texpetedhimtobeawake—HarryhadintendedtostaythenightatRon’shouseaftergoingouttothepub,afraidthathewouldbetoodrunktoapparatesafely,butbythetimethenightwasover,hefoundthathewasstilljustassoberashehadbeenwhenthedaybegan,soheamehome,anyways.“Ididn’tmeantowakeyouup.”
“No,youdidn’t.”Draosaid,andthensmoothedwrinklesoutofthesheetsinsteadoflookinghimintheeye,mostlybeausetheybothknewthathewaslying.TheonlyreasonDraohadwokenupwasbeauseHarryhadtrippedoverapileofbookswhenhewalkedinandsentthemalltumblingtothefloor,himalongwiththem.ThenoisehadsaredDraosobadHarryjustountedhimselflukyhehadn’tbeenhexed.“Whatareyoudoinghome?”