Inaway,theyhadworkedout,becausenowherehewas,stillbuzzingwiththemagicoftheVow,sittingacrossfromDracoMalfoyliketheywerefriends.Theyalmostwere,andheknew,intime,theywouldbe.Theyhadtheirwholelivestoworkthatsituationout.Butpartofhimwonderedwhyhehaddoneit.Ofcourse,therewastheconfessionthathehadmadetoMcGonagall,theoneheknewbeyondadoubtwastrue;hewasinlovewithDracoMalfoy.Butitwashardlycommonforyoutogofromconfessingone’sloveforthefirsttimeoutloudtoVowingtoprotectthem,nowandforevermore,inthesameday.ItwasabitRomeoandJulietofhim,hehadtoadmit.Andevenifheknewthathisfeelingswerenotentirelyunrequited,hecouldn’thelpbutfeelhehadrushed.
Thenagain,whatelsewastobeexpectedofhim?Hiswholelifehadbeenrushed.HewentfrombeinganormalmugglekidtobeingthemostfamouswizardintheUnitedKingdom,andpossiblytheworld,inlessthanaday.Hebecametheyoungestseekerinagesinasimilarway.HewentfromanorphantohavingSiriustobeinganorphanagaininwhatfeltliketheshortesttimeperiodimaginable.Hiswholelifehappenedtoofast,andhehadn’tlearnedhowtomakedecisionsinatimely,wellthoughtoutmanner.Hehadneverhadtodeveloptheskillofthinkingthingsoutwell.ThathadalwaysbeenHermione’sjob.
Therewasalotonhismind,tobesure,butthethoughtthatmostoccupiedhimwashowdifficulthewasfindingitnottostareatDraco’sface.Heknewhehadforeverandthensometomemorizeitall,butwhathewantedrightnow,morethananythingwastowalkacrosstowhereDracosatandholdhisfacebetweenhishandsandjustlookathim.Lookathimandrunhisfingersoverthelinesofhischeekbones,hisnose,hislips.Ofcourse,heknewalltoowellwhatDracolookedlike,butheneverbeenallowedtojustlooklikehewantedto.Likeheknewnowthathewasbeinghonesttohimself,thathealwayswantedto.
“Potter,”Dracosaidsuddenlyfromwherehesatinhisarmchair,eyesclosedasheresthisheadonhishand.
“Hmm?”
“Stopwatchingme.”
“I’mnot.”
“Youareso,”Dracoreplied,openinghiseyestolookattheotherman.“Youhaveguiltwrittenalloveryourface.Anddon’tactlikeIdon’tknowwhatthatlookslike,Ipracticallyhaveadoctorateininterpretingyourfacialexpressions.Whyareyoustaring,Potter?”
“IneverthoughtI’dseeyourfaceagain,”Harrysaid,finally,ignoringtheflutterinhisstomachasheadmittedit.
“Therewerephotos,”Dracosaid,thoughHarrycouldn’thelpbutnoticethecolorthatcametohischeeksashespoke.
“Notasgood,”Harryreplied.“Besides,theydon’tlooklikeyoudonow.”
“Yeah?IshowIlooknowbetterorworse?”Dracosneered,althoughHarrycouldtellhisheartwasn’tinit.
“Isthatevenaquestion?Haveyouseenyou?”
“Idon’tthinkIlookallthatdifferent,”Dracoshrugged.
Harryknewhehadbroughtthisconversationuponhimself,buthefelthewasgettingtooclosetosayingtoomuch.Hestoodup,pacingbetweentheirtwoarmchairs.WhenhisbackwastoDracohespoke.
“Youlook—Ikeeptellingmyselfyoumustbeaghost.OrsomeextremelyinteractiveMirrorofErised-esquevision.IkeeptellingmyselfthenexttimeIturnaround,you’llbegone.OrI’llbehavingamomentoflucidityinwhateverSt.Mungo’sbedI’mcurrentlystrappedinto,”Harryrambled,turningtofindDracohadalsostoodfromhisseat.
“SoIlooklikeaghost?”Dracosaid,approachingHarryslowly.
“No,that’snotwhatImeant.Imean,you’repale,but—”HarrytrailedoffagainasDracotookhisarmbythewrist.
DracotookHarry’shandandplaceditonhischest.
“You’rehanddoesn’tgothrough,doesit?”Dracoasked,hisvoiceimpossiblysoft.
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