harry.

“it’snotaslowsong.”draoughs,buthestillwantstositdown,beausethisnighthasbeenexhausting.“andyousaidyouhateanyothertype.”

“itsoundslikeaslowsongtome.”itwasn’taslowsong.itwasheavymetal.ginnywasthreefeetawayfromthemandatuallyheadbanging,withlunaswayingbesideher,avaguelybemusedexpressiononherfae.“idon’tknowwhatyou’relisteningto.”

“danewithme.”hedragsdraotohim,outontotheefloor.

“areyoualright?”harrylooksonerned.“or,imean,arewealright?beauselunasaidthatyouseemsad,andi’velearnedthatlunaisnormallyrightaboutthings.”

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helovesme,draothinks,andherethetwoofthemare,slowinginthisroom,andit’sliketherestofthebuildingisfallingaway,burningaway,lunaandginnyandtherestdisappearingbeausetheyjustdon’tmatter,really,onlythetwoofthemdo.

buthealsothinksabouvender,abouttheirsars,herinsisthattheirsisaburninglove,thatthereareworsewaystogothanoutinafshoffireandmaybehowitisworthit,thatthey’llgetpastthosethings,beausetheyloveeahotherandmaybeitsstrongerthanthismessthattheworldhasleftthemin.

draothinksaboutthehouseinlondon,abouttheworrythat’smadeahomeinhisstomah.hethinksabouthowheisafraidtoleavewhatheisomfortablewith,howgrimmauldpewasnotahomebutitfeelsliketheirs,liketheybothhaveanequalshare.hethinksabouthowworriedheisthathewilwaysbeinharry’sdebt,nomatterhowmuhtheyloveeahother,beauseyouannotbesavedbysomeoneandnotfebitlikeyoumustmakeituptotheminanywayyouan,andhowmuhhedoesnotwantthathangingoverhisheadfortherestofhislife.

(maybe.mostlikely.butthathadnotmatteredthenightbefore,whenhepakedallhislotheswithawaveofhiswandandgotreadytosneakoutofthehousewithoutwarni