“yeah.imighttakeawalkinthegardentoday,”draosays,smilingslightlyasheturnstolookatthebuddingflowers.

“yes,idid.thanksforasking.”

“don’tbesopolitearoundme.it’sdisgusting.”

harrydoesastold.“no,iameforthepanakes.”hetransferstwopanakesonhispte(afterthreeweeksofeatinginthemanor,he’smanagedtodivesthimselfofhisbashfulnesswiththefood),soopsasmuhsliesofbananaasheanwithhisfork,andsprinklesthatontopalongwiththerushedashews.heunstopsthebottleofmaplesyrup.

“youalwaysomeforthepanakes,”draoreplies,gettinghisforkandreahingoverthetabletowardstheservingpte.hisnosesrunhesupatthesightofthepuddleofsyruponharry’spte.

harryignoresthat.“well,ifitmakesyoufeelbetter,i’malsoheretoaskhowyou’redoing.”

nthem.

surprisepaintsdrao’sfae,anditmakeshimlooki,eyeswide

justlikethat,anyirritationthathemighthavefeltgiveswaytoaertainkindofwonderatseeingdraomalfoyughsounguardedly.harryrealizeshe’sstaring.

it’sworrisomehowthewordsareoutbeforeheanstopthem.“bsp;iomewithyou?”

andthendraoughs.

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harryswallowsthepanakesdown,hard.“itshows.”

“whatthehellfor?”

“well?sitdown.idon’tthinkyouameherejusttowathmeeat.”

“didyouhaveagoodsleep?”

harryshovespanakesinhismouth.he’slearnedthatdraotriestobediffiultonpurpose,andthebestwaytodealwithhimwhenhe’sbeingaslimysodistoignorethathe’sbeingaslimysod.hethinksheshouldbeawardedforhisdisoveryandanonizedforhispatiene.“didyouhaveagoodfukingsleep?”