“Things?”Heroundedonher,intendingtobullyheroversomethingthatwasn’therfaultlikeheusedto,butthenhetakesinhertrustingfaceandwideeyesandcan’tbringhimselftodoit,whichisashame.Itwouldhavemadehimfeelbetter.“Whatthings,exactly?”
Lunashrugs.“Peopledon’talwaysliketocooperatewhenthey’rebeingarrestedformurder.”Which,okay,fair,butnotagoodenoughexplanation,becauseDracowasstillconcoctingimagesofHarrybleedingoutonthegroundsomewhereandDraconevergettingthechancetotellhimgoodbye,orsorry,orhowgratefulhewasthatHarrystoodupthatdayattheministry.ButthenLunayankshimawayfromhisworryentirelybysuggestingtheymakeacake.
“Whythebloodyhellwouldwemakeacake?”
Hestaresather.Forthemostpart,DracohasbecomeusedtotheideathatLunadoesnotseethingsthewaythateveryoneelsedoes,buthedidn’tseehowcookingwouldimprovethesituation.
“Ginny’salwayshungryafterthesesortsofthings.”Shewavedherhandintheair,likethesesortsofthingswereascomplicatedandworrisomeasatwoadayQuidditchpractice.“Ithinkit’sachocolatesortofnight.”
Dracostopstostareather,andthenrealizesthatmaybehedoesn’twanttoturnherlooseinhisspotlesskitchen.Andalsothatmaybehedoesn’twanttojustkeepsittinginhereallbyhimself.
“Yeah,alright.”Heheaveshimselfoffthecouch.“ButIpickthefrosting.”
WhenHarrydoesfinallystumbleinthedoor,Draco’ssocaughtupinfightingwithLunaoverthefrostingthathedoesn’tnoticeitatfirst.ButthenLunadisappears,lettinggoofthefrostingtubesoquicklyheaccidentlysmearsbrightblueicingonhischeek,andDracorealizesthattheyaren’taloneanymore.
Harryiswaitingatthedoorway,smilingandsheepish.“Sorry.”Heholdsouthisarms,likeheknowsthatDracoisjustdyingtohughim.“Tooklongerthanexpected.”
Draco’sangry,andalittlemiffed,butthatdoesn’tstophimfromrunningacrosstheroomtogettohim.“Whathappened?”Hewasrunninghishandsoverhisfaceandarms,findingtheplacewherehewashurt,becausehehadtobehurt,right,tobebackthislate?“Areyoualright?”
“I’mfine.”Harrypusheduphissleevetoshowaburnontheinsideofhisarm.“Justascratch.”
It’slookingtobeanicereunion,butthenakicktotheshinsfromGinnysendsHarrystumblingbackwards,cursing.“Speakforyourself.”She’sgotbloodalloverher,soakingintoherclothes,andgrassandtwigsstrewnthroughherhair.“Iwastheonethataboutgotbloodymurdered.”
Bloodymurderedisanaptdescription.She’sgotagashacrossherstomach,andittakesLunathreewavesofherwandtohaveitknitbacktogether.It’sseamless,withoutevenashimmerofascarleftbehind,andthesightofitallmakesthescarsonDraco’schestache.
“Don’tplaythatcard.”Harrysays,swattingather,eventhoughDracocan’thelpbutnoticehowcarefulheisaroundher,helpinghersitandbringingheraglassofwaterbeforeshecantryandgetitherself.“Webothknowitwasyourturntochaseaftertherunner.”
Dracowondersifthat’sreallyhowitplayedout,witheachofthemtakingatallyofwhoitwasthatwentintothedangeroussituationfirst.Liketheyweretakingturnsatchancingdeath,anditwouldbetheluckofthedrawthatdecideswhichoneofthemfalls.
Hedoesn’treallywanttoknow.
GinnyandLunaleaveeventually,havingeatenmuchofDraco’scakeandstoleapairofHarry’scoatstowearhome.DracofollowsthemtothedoorwaybecauseHarrystillhasn’tlearnedcommonmanners,andwhenitclosesbehindthem,heslumpsagainstthedoor,holdinghisheadinhishands.
(Hisfingerscomeawayblue,which,yeah,thefrostingwasstillalloverhisface.Nicefriends,lettinghimknow,especiallyconsideringGinnywentcrazywithherpolaroid.)
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