aboveandoutoftheinferno.

drao,ashehasalwaysdone

draoslowlygnesouttowardsthegarden.“isthisthemanor?”

“no,malfoy,i’mjustheretoeatyourpanakes.”

thatwasjustthegripofsomeonewhowantedtostayalive.

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

harryseesthemomentthatdraoonfirmsthathereallyisindeedharrypotter.

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

thatwasn’tthegripofsomeonewhowantedtoservevoldemort.

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

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

hisforkdropsinsurprise.flushing,helooksup.“malfoy.”

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“oh.”

hepiksuphisfork,takesapanakefromtheservingpte,andletsitploponhisown.

“you’re…”malfoysquints.

“well,you’renoteatingthem.”

andharryrealizesthatdraoremembershim,remembersalotmoreabouthim,ifhe’sgoingtogobaktooldhabitsandhisusualsnark.hefeelsunbearablyhappyatthat.

“yeah.”

“potter.”

heturnsaway,fromdrao’ssofthairandthememoriesoffire.