“Well,thereisverylittleevidenetheyexist,Luna,”Hermionestarts,andDraogivesherthebeofthedoubtbythinkingshemeantittobe.
“Don’tbesilly.”Lunafixesherwithagre.“TherehavebeendefinitesightingsinNorthAmeria.”
There’sashokedmomentofsilene,andthentheyburstoutughing,Ronfirst,andthenallofthem,rightinthemiddleofthestreetwhereanyoneouldlookdownandseethem.Ginny’sughingsohardtherearetearsinhereyes,thenshe’sdigginginheroatpoket,ursingunderherbreath.“Damnit.DamnitalltoHell,Luna,Iwasgoingtodothister,doitright,but—”shesinksdowntooneknee,eventhoughtherewasmudonthepavementanditwassoakingthroughthelegsofherjeans.“I’mnevergoingtoloveyoumorethanIdorightthisseond,Ithink.”
She’sholdinguparing.It’ssmall,andelegant,andsimple,likeitwasbuiltforLuna.“LunaLovegood,”Shesays,andhervoieisshakingwiththeeffortofkeepingherselfontained.“Willyoudomethehonorofmarryingme?”
Lunastaresdownather,asunbotheredbythisasshehadbeenbyeveryotherthing.Foraheartstoppingmoment,Draothinksshemightsayno,butthenherfaeraksopeninasmileandshesinkstoherknees.“Isuppose.”
“Shesupposes.”Ronsays,hisvoiethattoneofunfathomabledisbeliefhealwaysuseswhenLunasayssomethingthathedoesn’tuand.“Youhearthateveryone?”Hehasturnedhisfaeupwardandsreamedittotheskylights.“Shesupposes!”
“Youeverthinkaboutthat?”Theyarewalkinghome,eventhoughtheyouldapparate,beausethisisoneofthosenightswhereyoudonotwanttogohome,thatyouwanttoprolongforaslongasyouan.“Marriage?”
“AboutasmuhasIthinkabouttherestofthefuture.”It’saopoutkindofanswer,andDraoknowsit,sohetriesagain.“Ianneverquitepitureit.ThefuturegetsallfuzzywheneverIwanttoformalearimage,likemaybeI’mstillnotusedtotheideathatI’mgoingtogettohaveit.”
“Butifyouwere.”Harryinsists.HeisshorterthanDraonow,beauseDraoisbaningontheurblikeitisatightrope,armsspreadoutintheairbesidehim.“Whatwoulditbelike?”
“Terrifying,Ithink.”Draodoesthinkaboutit,aboutahouseandkidsbutnoneofthedetailsomeinlear,otherthanthefatthathewouldhaveabrokendownoldshedforhispotionssuppliesandoneofhiskidsshouldbenamedafterhisfather,todorightwherehehaddonewronglikesometwistedformofredemptionthathisownfatherwouldnottrytoreahfor,andwheneverhethinksofthepersonheisgoingtospendhislifewiththeyhavestartedtohaveHarry’sfae,now,sodifferentfromthelifehehadthoughtofafewyearsago,wherehewasthinkingintermsofappearaneandheirsandlegay.“Totrustsomeonethatmuh.”
“Wouldn’titbeworthitthough?”Harry’svoieisquieterthanitshouldbe,likethewordswerebeingknokedloosefromsomewhereinhishest.“Tohavesomeonethatyoulovesomuh?”
Draodoesn’tanswer.Heslipsandstumblesbutdoesnotfall,beauseHarryisthere,putting
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