thatwasn’tthegripofsomeonewhowantedtoservevoldemort.

thatwasjustthegripofsomeonewhowantedtostayalive.

butthistime,draoseemstoreonilewhathe’sseeingwithwhatever’sinhishead,andhevisiblyrexes,leaningbakonhiswheelhair.“etoobservemeinmymiserythen?”

heturnsaway,fromdrao’ssofthairandthememoriesoffire.

“potter.”

“you’re…”malfoysquints.

harryshrugsnervously.hefeelslikehe’sjustbeenaughtdoingsomethinghewasn’tsupposedtobedoing.hesupposesthatitisweirdtosuddenlywakeupandhaveyourlong-timeenemyinyourhouseeatingyourpanakes.“yeah.”

“yeah.”

drao,ashehasalwaysdone

“no,malfoy,i’mjustheretoeatyourpanakes.”

hisforkdropsinsurprise.flushing,helooksup.“malfoy.”

andharryrealizesthatdraoremembershim,remembersalotmoreabouthim,ifhe’sgoingtogobaktooldhabitsandhisusualsnark.hefeelsunbearablyhappyatthat.

andit’sthisoionagainandharry’stense,wifwhathappenedbeforewillrepeatitself.narissaisn’theretohelphimanymoreandharrywouldn’tknowwhattodo.

hepiksuphisfork,takesapanakefromtheservingpte,andletsitploponhisown.

aboveandoutoftheinferno.

draofurrowshiseyebrowsathim,andthenatthepanakesonthetable.ittakesawhileforhimtorespond,buthiseyeslearandhesays,“getyourfilthyfingersoffmypanakes.”

“oh.”

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harryseesthemomentthatdraoonfirmsthathereallyisindeedharrypotter.

draoslowlygnesouttowardsthegarden.“isthisthemanor?”

“well,you’renoteatingthem.”