“Hedidittohimself.”Shesaid,andthenthetearscameforreal,atorrentofthem.“HedidsomedamageRon.”
Harrydoesn’trememberlisteningtoher.AllheremembersisthatonemomenthispictureofSeamusincludedtheSeamusheknewfromschool,thehappyonethatwasinlovewithDean,andnowtherewasthisotherSeamusinhishead,theonethatkissedDeangoodbyeonhiswaytoworkandthensatdowntowriteanote,wholockedhimselfinabathroom,whogotfoundbyLunathreehourslatercoveredinhisownbloodandcryingabouthowhecouldn’tmakehimselfcutdeepenough,couldshefinishit,please.
Please,hehadapparentlysobbed,lettingherpullhimintoherarmslikehewasstillalittlekid.Pleaseletitend.
Harryfeltlikehehadbeenpunchedinthestomach,soheturnedaway,buthecouldn’thidefromitforever,becauseRonwasonhisfeet,onearmwrappedaroundhissister’sshoulders.“I’mgoinghome.”Hesaid,voicegrim,butdeterminedinthewayithadbeenbackwhentheywerepreparingtodosomethingdangerous,likehewascheckingthingsoffofato-dolist.“Makingherastrongcupoftea.YouwanttogokeepDeancompanyinthehospitaluntilHermionegetsthere?”
No,hewantedtosay,becausehedidnotwantthat,hedidnotwanttoseeSeamuslikethis,hedidnotwanttositinuncomfortablechairsandtellhisfriendmeaninglessplatitudes,hedidnothavetobetheonetodealwithallofthis.
Butthat’snotwhathesays.
“Sure,”Hehearshimselfsaying,reachingforhisshirttogetdressed,inexplicablywishingDracocouldcomebutrealizinginthesamemomentthathewouldn’tbewelcome.ThiswasnotaboutHarry’scomfort.“OfcourseI’llgo.”
Draco
Harrywaslate,whichmeantthatDracowaswaitingwhenhecamehome,settledintothecornerofthecouchwithabookspreadacrosshislap.
“I’mlate.Iknow.”Harrydidn’tgiveDracotimetorespond,justyankedoffhiscoatandthrewitdownonthechairwithanangerthatDracohadn’tseensincetheywereinschool.“Somethingcameup.”
“Iseverything—”Hemeanttoaskifeverythingwasokay,butdoesn’t,becausethewordsaren’toutofhismouthbeforeHarryislevelinghisstareathim.
“Everything’snotokay,actually.Youwanttoknowwhy?”Dracodidn’t,really.Hedidn’twanttoknowwhyHarrylookedsopale,orwhyhiseyesareredenoughtomakeDracothinkhehadbeencrying,orwhatthatstainonhisshirtsleevewas.Hedidn’twanttoknowwhyhewassolateorwhyhishandsorshakingorwhyhehadslammedthedoorsohardwhenhecamein.Hejustwantedthingstobeokay.“Seamuswentandbloodytriedtokillhimself,that’swhy,rippedhimselfapartfromwristtoelbow.”
HeseemedtobewaitingforsomesortofreactiononDraco’spart,andDracofelthorriblylikehewasfailingsomesortofatest.Heputsthebookdownandthegetstohisfeet,likehemightactuallybethinkingaboutwalkingoverandgivingHarryahug,ofallthestupidideas.ButthenHarryleavestheroomentirely,andDracofollows.
Harryiskickingthechair.Repeatedly.Andthenheissittinginit,hunchedoverwithhiselbowsonhisknees,handsyankingathishair.Andthenhe’sstaringupatDracolikehemightfindsomecomfortthere,thefaceofsomeonewhohasreachedtheirbreakingpoint.“Itneverends,doesit?”Hesoundslikehehasbeendrainedofeverylastdropofmotivation,likefinallyaftereverything,Seamuswillbetheonewhobreakshim.“Itjustbringsmorepain.”
“It’llstop.”Dracosays,wonderingifthisishelpful,wonderingifheshouldleaveHarrytoworkthroughthisonhisown.“We’vejustgotalongwaytogo.”
Harrystaresathimforamomentandthenhestands,andforhalfamomentDracothinksheisleavingbecausewhathesaidwaswrong,wasunsensitive,andhe’salreadyhalfwaytoapologizingwhenHarryre-enterstheroomwhileshruggingonhiscoat.“Ineedadrink.”AndjustbeforeDracocanstartworryingthatithadbeenhimthatdrovehimawayfromhisownhome,Harryturnsaroundonelasttime,raisinganeyebrowwithsomethingthatmighthavebeenimpatience.“Youcoming?”
Dracodoesn’thesitate.
Harry
Dracodoesnotreallyfitwiththepeoplehere,butsinceHarryhadstarteddragginghimalongtoeverythingashisplusone,noonethoughttoargue,justorderedanotherroundofdrinksandsaiditwasonthetwoofthem.
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