Draoslowlynodded,tooonfusedtospeakproperly.
Whenheputthesuitinhiswardrobethatevening,hestaredatitforlongerthanwasprobablynormal.Butheouldn’thelpit.Notonlydidthatsuitlookompletelyoutofpe,tohisotherlothes,italsofeltoutofpe.Beausethatsuitseemedtobeholdingapromise;apromiseDraowasfairlysurePotterwouldn’tbeabletokeep.
Saturday,18January2003
“Ibroughtyousomething,”Pottersaidashesteppedoutofthefirepe.DraopeekedoverandsawhewasholdingabottleofOgden’sfi.
“Atleastyouhavethesensetoomebearinggifts,”hedrawled,notbtogetoutofhisarmhairandturninghisattentionbaktohisbook.
“Well,Ithoughtsineweemptiedthatfanybottleofwinetheothernight,I’dmakeupforit.”
“Fany,”Draosnorted.Potterreallyhadnoidea.“Thatwineosts190Galleons.”
Potterstaredathim.“What?Whywouldyoupay190Galleonsforabottleofwine?That’sinsane!”
Draopinhedthebridgeofnoseandshookhishead.“Ihaveafeelingyouwouldn’tuand,evenifIexpinedittoyou.”
“Aw,youknowhowmuhIlikeitwhenyou’rebeingallsnootyandouous,”Pottersniggered.HewalkedovertoDrao,swingingonelegontothearmrest.Draoinhedawayfromhim,eyeinghimseptially.
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasked.
“I’mwaitingforyoutogetusgsses,”Pottershrugged.
“Youknowwheretheyare,”Draoretorted.“Don’tatlikeyouhaven’tbeenherealmosteverydayforthestweek.Youprobablyknowthispebetterthanmebynow.”
Pottergrinnedandjumpedoffthearmrest.Draowantedtopointoutheouldhavejustsummonedthegsses,buthekepthismouthshutashiseyeswandereddowntoPotter’sbakside.Itwasashameheseemedtopreferlooselothing.Thenagain,itleftsomuhmoreroomforDrao’simagination,whih,onseondthought,wasn’tneessarilyagoodthing.DaydreamingaboutPotterwasprettymuhallhewasdoingthesedays.Spendingmoretimewithhim,itseemed,onlyamplifiedhisdesire.Andeventhoughitgothardertodealwithit,hethoughthewasdoingaprettygoodjobathidingit.
Well,hedefinitelyshouldhaveknownbetter.Threegssesin,Potterwasgettingemotionalagain.Apparently,hismother’sbirthdaywasomingup.Shewouldhaveturned43.Potterdidn’tneedtotellDraohowmuhhemissedhisparents.Heouldhearthesorrowandtheyearninginhisvoie,ineveryshudderingbreath.Draoouldn’thavefeltmoreunomfortableoronfused.AllhewantedtodowashisarmsaroundPotterandomforthim.Hesettledforaslightlytremblinghandonhisshoulder.
“I’msorry,”hemuttered,avoidinglookingatPotter.Hewasabsolutelysurehisheartwouldn’tbeabletotakewhathewouldfindinPotter’seyes.
“Metoo,”Pottersaidhoarsely.Andsuddenly,Draofeltawarmhandonhis.“WhatdoyouthinkourliveswouldbelikeifVoldemorthadneverexisted?”
Draowasn’tsureifitwassupposedtobearhetorialquestion.Probably,sinePotterontinuedtalkingwithoutwaitingforananswer.