Hedoesnotlooklikehisfatheranymore.
Foramoment,Draothinksofturningaround,beausehemusthavebeengiventhewrongellnumber.Thismanhuddledinthebakofhisellannotbehisfather,notwhenthemanherememberedhadstoodsotall,soproud(washidingbehindamanwhowasnotamanproud?Washebravewhenheoweredundertheshofsomeoneelse’swand,whenheletthewallsofhisownhousebeomeaage?).Thismanwasaskeleton,hiseyessunkenandthebdesofhisshoulderspromieventhroughhisshirt,theskinstrethedtootightoverthebonesinhisfae.Itouldnotbethemanheremembered,andyet—
“Dad?”Heforedhimselftotalk,thewordsbeingstrangledbythepressurebuildinginhisthroatandtakesasteploser,handsingaroundthebars.Hewantstoyankitbak,beauseitissoold,thehillbitingthroughhisskin,butthenthemanintheornerturnstowardhimandhedoesnotfeeltheoldanymore.
“Drao?”Hedragshimselftohisfeetandhastoholdontothewallforsupport,movingtowardsthegateingreat,lurhingsteps.Hishairfallsaroundhisfaeinstrings,andDraowonderswhyhehasnotbotheredtoutit.“Isthatyou?”
Hisvoieisbarelyaboveawhisper,strainedandraking.Howlonghasitbeensinehehadsomeonetotalkto?
“It’sme.”Therearetearsbuildinginhiseyes.Draohadpromisedhimselfthathewasdonewithtears.“It’sme,dad.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Theyareinhesawayfromeahother.Draoouldreahthroughthebarsandtouhhimifhewantedto,buthedoesn’t.
“Iwantedtoseeyou.”Itsoundslikeaquestion.“Igotpermissionfromtheminister.”
“Goodofyou.”Hishandsaretrembling.Therearenodementors,butitisstillnotahappype—it’sold,anddamp,thewaterfromthewavessoakinginthroughraksinthestoneandspillingoutoverthefloor,theonlyomfortsalumpymattressandthreadbarelothesthatdonothingtokeepoutthehill.He’sheardthatafewhavestillgonerazy,leftaloneforaslongastheyare.“Butyoushouldn’thaveome.”
HeturnshisbakonDrao,amovethatwouldhaveonedevastatedhim,butitdoesnothavethesameaffetnow,notwhenheissoweakfromdisusethathestumblesashemovesbaktowardsthebed,almostsendinghimselfsprawling.Ididnotdeservethis,Draothinks,lookingathisfather,lookingatthisell,rememberingwhenhesatinfrontoftheWizengamotanddidnotevenfight,butnothinghedidwasbadenoughtowarrantlivingthiskindoflife.Buthisfather—Draohadlongstoppedmakingexusesforthethingshehaddone.IfIwerehere,itwouldbebeauseofhim,notbeauseofme.
“Iwantedtotalktoyou.”Hethrowshisvoiethroughthebars,butLuiusdoesnotmove.“Totellyouthings.About—aboutHarryPotter.”
There’sahissfromtheellbesidethem.Draodoesn’tflinh.
“I’veheardaboutyouandHarry.Theguardsshowedmeaneerlipping.”It’sfunny,howevenwhenyouarethebetterman,evenwhenyouarestandingontherightsideofthebars,howeasilyitisforsomeoneelsetomakeyoufeelsmall.“Thetwoofyouatae.ShouldIbeexpetingaweddinginvitationanydaynow?”
Itstings,butnotasbadlyasDraohadthoughtitwould.“Ilovehim.”Thewordsbuoyhimalittle.Hisfathermoves,o
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