This,atleast,wasnotsomethingthathewouldhaveseenoming.Therearen’tmanypeopleherewhowouldbringupadeatheateratawedding,espeiallywhenthatdeatheaterwasafamilymemberrottingawayinAzkaban.Butthosepeoplearen’tAuntMuriel.
“Andyourmother.AndyourAunt.Ihelpedputherawaythefirsttime.”She’stakenoverbyaoughingfitthen,onethatmakeshershouldersheaveandbendsherdowntothetable,wedfingersurlingaroundthetablelothtoeaseherthroughit.Draoisalreadyonhisfeetwithagssofwaterwhenshewaveshimaway,staringarossthetableagain,herbeadyeyessteamingfromtheeffortofathingherbreath.“TheyhadmeontheWizengamotommittee.”
Draodidn’tknowwhattosay.It’snotlikeitwasmuhofafeat,sendingBeltrixtoAzkaban.Nooneeverdoubtedthatshewasguilty.“Areyoustill?”
Wrongquestion.Heknowsitfromthewaysheholdsherself,herposturetightening.“No.”
“Whynot?”
“Igotold.Gotsik.Gotuseless.”Hervoieraisestoreahthetablearossfromthem,aheapofredheadsallintendonignherpresene.“Gotshutupinmyhousesothislotdidn’thavetodealwithme.”
Itmustbeabitterlifethatsheleads.Draowouldhavealmostthoughtthatthiswarwasablessingforher,ifonlyforthefatthatitdrovepeopleintoherhouse.Everyone,eventhemeanones,starveforalittlebitofhumanontat.It’stheonethingthatdrawsthemtogether.
“I’vehearditwasargehouse,”hesaysfairly,mostlytodrawtheattentionbakintoalmerwatersandalsobeausehefeltbadforher,justabit.
“Yes.Yes,itis.Youusedtohaveargehouse,too.”Herwandsisrestinginherfistandshefliksitupwardsoagssofhampagneliftsfromthehandsofoneofhermanynephewsandfindsitswaythere,nevermindthathernearlyfullgsswasrightinfrontofher.“Andnowyouhaveaottage.”
“Ilikeitbetterthere.”
“SoI’vebeentold.”Shetiltsherhead.“You’renotlikethem,youknow.”
He’saughtoffguard.Theentireoionwasgivinghimwhipsh.“Who?”
“Yourparents,youraunt,alltherest.Theywalkthrougharoomlikethey’rearvedfromstoneandexpeteveryonetopayhomage.Andalo
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