“Drao,I’mtellingyou,thishasnothing—”
“What,then?”
Potterhesitated,fumblingwiththehemofhisjumper.“It’snotthateasyformetosay,”hemumbled.
“Beauseit’snotreal.”
“What?”
“You’rejusttryingtomakesomethingup,soI’llsleepwithyou.”
Potter’seyeswidened,hisfaetwistinginhorror.“YoureallythinkI’dbeapableofthat?”
“Idon’tknowwhattothinkanymore,”Draoyelled.“Ian’ttrustyou!”
“Youknowwhat,ifyoureallythinkI’mthatkindofperson,Ian’ttrustyoueither.”
“Great,it’sfinallysettledthen,”Draohissed.“Oh,andbytheway,I’mkeepingyourheque,forthehildren.ButyouandI,we’redone!”HeaughtonestglimpseofPotterbeforehesteppedintothefirepeagainandimmediatelywishedhehadn’t.Itmadehisheartsqueezepainfullytoseesomuhhurtinhiseyes,buttherewasnootherway.Potterhadhurthimtoomuh.Therewasnoexuseintheworldthatwouldevermakeupforit.
Wednesday,23July2003
TheLovegood’shomewassuhapeuliarpe.DraowassurprisedwhenhefoundoutLunastilllivedwithherfather.Ontheotherhand,itmadesense,sinetheywererunningtheQuibblertogethernow.
WhenLunahadinvitedhimoverfortea,hehadn’tthoughtmuhofit.Butnow,afteronlyfiveminutesofsittingdownwithherinherroom,itwasprettylearshehadanagenda.
“I’mnottalkingtoPotter,”hesaid,traingtherimofhisupwithhisthumb.“There’snothingyouansaythatwill—”
“Drao,”Lunasaidwithasigh.“He’ssuffering.”
“So?I’msuffering,too.”
“Andhaveyoueverthoughtaboutwhythatis?”
“What?”
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