(he’salmostsorrythathehadtosayitinapethislovely,buthehasnootheroption.heouldnotdoitathome,withallthememories,andheouldnotbringhimselftotaintanypartoftheirlifewithhiswords.ithadtobesomepedifferent,somewherethathadtheleasthaneoffollowingthemhome.)

he’sonfused,buthedoesnotlookworried.theremighthavebeenatimewherethosewordswouldhavesenthimintoapani,thinkingthatthiswasoverandharrywassendinghimaway,butnowtheirfriendshipwassetinstone,upuntilthemomentharrysayswhathehadbroughthimheretosayandsendsitallrumblingbakintopiees.“what’sthat,harry?”

ionthatthatwaswheretheybelonged.

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“ijust…”hegivesupontryingtobestrongandreahesouttohim,anddraomeltsintohistouh.itouldbeperfet,ifharryletit.itouldbeeverything,ifhewouldjustgiveupontryingtodothingstherightway.ifhewouldonlystoptryingtosavehimwhenhemightnotneedsaving.mightnotwantsaving.“weneedtostop.todosomethingdifferent.”

like,afterallthistime,theyhadjustbeomeanextensionofeahother,andthathurts,hurtssobadthatharryforesthewordsupfrombehindthelumpthatwasgrowinginhisthroatandtriestomakethewordsrashthroughthebarrierthathadformedbehindhisteeth,buttheydon’tome,notevenlose.“drao.”draoturnstofaehim,andheisholdingbothhandsnow,tiltinghisheadtolookupathimbeauseheisontheftgroundandharryisstillstandingonthestepabovehim.“drao,ineedtotellyousomething.”

hestillisn’tgettingit.“wh

draoalsolooksbeautiful.theyareunderastreetlight,andhishair,whihhasgrownmuhtoolongtobeassleekandshinyasitwasbakinhogwarts,fallsoverhisfaeinafuzzyhalo.harryresiststheurgetopushitawayfromhisfaeandlooksupattheskyinstead,whihisstreakedwiththeststrandsofasu.