分卷阅读32（2 / 2）

Draco

He’shappy.

Foramoment,Dracocan’trememberwhy,onlythathehadgottenthebestnight’ssleepthathehadhadinagesandtherewasnopaniclurkinginthebackofthroat,onlythesunstreaminginthroughtheopencurtainsandsendingyellowlightscatteringoverhisskin.Herubsthesleepoutofhiseyeslikehe’ssmoothingwrinklesinanoldshirt,andit’sonlywhenhestretchesoutanarmtowhereHarrywouldnormallybe(Dracoisalwaysthefirstoneawake)andtouchesnothingbutthefrayingedgesofthewornoutsheetsthatheremembers—abouttheball,Harry’shandinhisasthecamerasflashed,thelookonHarry’sfaceashereachedouttoaccepttheawardthathethinksheonlygotbecausehewasluckyenoughtosurvive,thatdancewithHarry’shandsonhimandhisvoicewhisperinginDraco’sear,promisingthingsthatheknewbetterthantobelieveweregoingtocometrue.

There’saknotforminginhisstomachattheemptyspacethatwassupposedtoholdHarry,butheswallowsitdown,forceshimselftocalmtheanxietythatisbeatingintimewithhispulse.Hewokeupearly,hethinks,pushingawaythecoversandsearchingaroundforanoldjumpertoyankdownoverhisarms.That’sallthisis.Nothingmore.

Peoplegetupearlyallthetime,butnotHarry,andeventhoughthat’salittleworrying,Dracoisstillhappyashegetsashowerandcleansupthestrayremnantsoflastnight(ashoehere,astraytiehangingoverthebackofthechair,astainfromwhereHarryspilledhiscologne)beforeheadingdownstairs,whichiswhenhehearsHarryyellingandDeantryingtotalkoverhimasheapologizes,whichiswhenDracostartstorealizethattheremightbeareasonHarrywasn’tinbedandthatmaybe,justmaybe,itwasn’tthatgoodofadayafterall.

“What’sthematter?”There’sapaperspreadoutoverthekitchentableandHarryleaningbackagainstthecounter,redintheface.DeanthrowsanexasperatedlookDraco’sway,andinsteadofexplaining,heshovesapaperintohischestandwaitsforhimtoreadit.

“Oh.”Draco’svoiceissmallandstunned,andittakesagreatdealofeffortforhimtopushthepagesawayandpretendwhathesawdidn’tmatter.“Well…”HelooksatHarry,tryingtogaugehowheissupposedtoreacttothis,butHarrylookstheotherway.“Atleastwelookgood.Gotmybestangle.”

WitchWeekly,whichwasasubsidyoftheDailyProphet,hadapparentlysenttheirownreportertogettheinsidescoopoftheministryeventlastnight,andtheyapparentlydecidedtogetthebiggestscoopofastorytheycouldandtellthewholewizardingworldwhytheGreatHarryPotterbrokeupwiththebeautifulwarheroknownasGinnyWeasley,aka,thefactthathedoesn’tlikewitchesatall.Theentirecoverwasjustacollageofthetwoofthem,allthesedifferentpicturessmashedtogether,andevenDracohadtoadmitthatitlookedconvincinginawaythatwasmorethanalittleembarrassing.There’sthetwoofthemwalkingin,thetwoofthemsittingatatableholdinghands,andtheworst,biggestpicture:thetwoofthemonthedancefloor,wrappedupineachotherwithnothoughtastowhowaswatching.

Itwasclearnowhowbigofamistakethatwas.

“IthoughtthatwithyouinchargetheProphetwouldleavemealone.”Harry’svoicewasdrippingacid,andDracocalmedthepanicsquirmingupinhisstomachwiththethoughtthatitwasnottheideathatpeoplethinksheiswithDracothathadupsetHarry,butratherthefactthatpeoplewouldconsiderhisnon-existentrelationshipwithDracowassomethingnewsworthy.“Thatyouwouldreportrealstuff.”

“TheProphetdoesreportrealstuff,mate.”Deanturnedthepaperaroundagain,andthenwincedasthetiny,animatedpictureofHarryleanedinandkissedDracoonthecheekwhenhecameuptotalktoDracoandHermione.Thatonewasprettyhardtoarguewith,too.“Thisisn’ttheProphet.Thisisaglorifiedgossipcolumn.”

“Averypopulargossipcolumn,”Dracosaidfaintly,sinkingintothechairandreadingallthattheyreportedonlastnight’sevent.Hehadbeenfeaturedinthismagazinebefore,butneverlikethis.“Withatonofreaderswhonowthinkwe’retogether.”

“You’retellingmeyou’renot?”Deanasked,whichmadethingsgofromangrytoawkwardinlessthanaheartbeat.Harryjustgloweredathim,andDracoclawedatthedarkmarkhidingunderhissleeve,wishingmorethaneverthathecouldjustwashitawayonceandforall,evenifhehastoburnitaway.Deanjustlooksfromonetotheotherandraiseshishandsinsurrender.“Okay.Whatever.Noneofmybusiness.Butlisten,Harry.Ican’tstopthem.Ijustwantedtogiveyouaheadsup.”

“Can’tyoumakethemstop?”Harrylookedtired,whichwasjustsounfair,thathecouldhaveanightwherehewasallowedtobehappyandhaveitturnintothis,anotherreminderabouthownothinginhislifereallybelongstohim.“TellthemI’mofflimits,orsomething?”

“Youkidding?”Deangrins,andherunsahandthroughhishair,sheepishbutstilljustasarrogantashewasbackinschool.“Ican’tdothatHarry.You’reagoldmine.Thoseofuswithavaultfullofgalleonshavetomakealivingsomehow,youknow.”

Dracowantstojumpin,demandthathestopandpullthestorybeforethepapersgoout,tellhimthatHarryhadgivenenoughanditwouldhavebeenniceifpeoplecouldgoasfartokeeptheirnoseoutofhisbusinessasathankyou,butit’snothisfriendandthereforenothisplace,sohestayssilent.

“Youthinkyouwouldhavegottentheirfactsright.”HarrypusheshimselfoffthecounterandheadsdownthehallwaytoletDeanout,Dracotrailingfaintlybehindhim.“I’mbi,notgay.”

“Right.”ThecornerofDean’smouthtwitchesupagain,andforthefirsttime,helooksalittlesorry.“I’llhaveafullretractionprintedbytomorrowmorning.Personalapologyandall.”

Harryclapshimontheshoulder,andDeanleaves,whicheventhoughDracowasdyingforthattohappen,itwasevenworsewhentheywereleftalone.