分卷阅读34（1 / 2）

(Notover,over.Hewasgoingtomakethatclearbeforeheevenstartedtalking.Theycouldstilllivetogether,andbebestfriends,andactliketheycan’tfunctioniftheydon’twalkaroundlikethey’reattachedtothehip,butthere’scertainthingsthattheyneedtogetridofifthey’reevergoingtomanagetobecomesomethingmore.Thingslikethebedsharing,andthehugging,andthekissingwithouttalkingaboutit,andsayingIloveyouandpretendingtheymeanitplatonicallyeventhoughtheybothknowthewordsaretooheavyintheirmouthstomeanthatlittle.Itwouldn’tturnintoanythingiftheykeptthrowingroadblocksupintheirownway.)

InHarry’shead,histhoughtprocesswassimple.Itwasn’tthathedidn’twanttokeepallofthat,itwasjustthathewasundertheimpressionthatmaybetheywouldhaveasturdierfoundationiftheythrewawayalltheirshakybeginningsandstartedbuildingitallupfromscratch.Inhishead,Dracowouldunderstand,andthetwoofthemcouldshifttheirnot-so-functionalrelationshipintosomethingbetter,andmovepastbeingjustfriendswhentheywerebothstandingonsolidground,withDraconothavingtheknowledgethatonewordfromHarrycouldsendhimbacktoAzkabanhangingoverhishead.

Itwaseasiertothinkofsayingsomethingthanactuallyforcingthewordsout,soeventhoughHarrywastryingtosoftentheblowwithanightoutandicecreamthathebought(healwaysbuys,becausehelikestoconsiderhimselfagentleman,eventhoughDracoalwaysscruncheshisnoseupandgiveshimthislook,likeheknowsexactlywhathe’stryingtodoandthinksit’scompletelystupid),hecouldn’tquitemakehimselfdoit.Dracojustlookedsohappy,andforoncehewasn’tcheckingoverhisshoulderforimaginaryenemieseveryfiveseconds.TherewasicecreamstucktothesideofhischeekbutHarrywasn’ttellinghim,andwhentheyleftthestore,DracotookHarry’shandinhisliketherewasnoquestionthatthatwaswheretheybelonged.

Like,afterallthistime,theyhadjustbecomeanextensionofeachother,andthathurts,hurtssobadthatHarryforcesthewordsupfrombehindthelumpthatwasgrowinginhisthroatandtriestomakethewordscrashthroughthebarrierthathadformedbehindhisteeth,buttheydon’tcome,notevenclose.“Draco.”Dracoturnstofacehim,andheisholdingbothhandsnow,tiltinghisheadtolookupathimbecauseheisontheflatgroundandHarryisstillstandingonthestepabovehim.“Draco,Ineedtotellyousomething.”

He’sconfused,buthedoesnotlookworried.Theremighthavebeenatimewherethosewordswouldhavesenthimintoapanic,thinkingthatthiswasoverandHarrywassendinghimaway,butnowtheirfriendshipwassetinstone,upuntilthemomentHarrysayswhathehadbroughthimheretosayandsendsitallcrumblingbackintopieces.“What’sthat,Harry?”

Dracoalsolooksbeautiful.Theyareunderastreetlight,andhishair,whichhasgrownmuchtoolongtobeassleekandshinyasitwasbackinHogwarts,fallsoverhisfaceinafuzzyhalo.Harryresiststheurgetopushitawayfromhisfaceandlooksupattheskyinstead,whichisstreakedwiththelaststrandsofasunset.

(He’salmostsorrythathehadtosayitinaplacethislovely,buthehasnootheroption.Hecouldnotdoitathome,withallthememories,andhecouldnotbringhimselftotaintanypartoftheirlifewithhiswords.Ithadtobesomeplacedifferent,somewherethathadtheleastchanceoffollowingthemhome.)

“Ijust…”Hegivesupontryingtobestrongandreachesouttohim,andDracomeltsintohistouch.Itcouldbeperfect,ifHarryletit.Itcouldbeeverything,ifhewouldjustgiveupontryingtodothingstherightway.Ifhewouldonlystoptryingtosavehimwhenhemightnotneedsaving.Mightnotwantsaving.“Weneedtostop.Todosomethingdifferent.”

Hestillisn’tgettingit.“Whatdoyoumean?”Dracostartstotakeastepback,falters,andthencomesbacktowardsHarryagain,becausehestillcannotfathomthethoughtthatHarrymightbetheonetohurthim,afterallhisworryaboutwhatstrangersmightbethinking.“Idon’tunderstand.”

“Iknow.”Harrytakesadeepbreath,shakesawaythetensionthathadsettledinhisshoulders.“Wejust—”

Heintendstotellhimthatit’sover.That’swhathehadbroughthimtherefor,andthat’swhathewasgoingtodo,evenifitkilledhim,justassoonashegatheredupthenerve,butthenthestreetexplodedinwhathethoughtmusthavebeenhalfofGeorge’sstockoffireworks,andhefoundthathehadrunoutoftime.

Draco

It’slikethewaragain,becausespellsareflyingbyhimandit’sscaryandhecoulddieatanymoment,butitalsoisn’t,becausethistime,finally,heisfightingontherightsideofthings,withHarrydisappearingsomewhereintothefray,swallowedupbythesmokeandtheflashesoflights,andGeorgeleapingoutofthebusteddisplaywindowofhisshop,sleevespusheduptotheelbowsandrobesbillowingoutbehindhim.

(It’sagloriousentrance,wandspinningandredhairflashingthroughthesmokeandlandinginacrouch,asnarlinhisvoiceandasmirkonhisface,likehecouldnotwaittotearsomeonetopieces.Itwasalmostterrifyingtoseehim,andDracowaskindofjealous.)

“Youalrightmate?”Georgecrossesthefewstepstohimlikethey’reseeingeachotherfromoppositeendsupofabar,nothingspecial,justtwofriendsrunningintoeachotherafteralongweekofwork.Theglasscrunchesunderhisfeet,andhiseyesaredartingaroundthestreet,andwhenhedrawseventohim,Dracocanseethatheisbleedingfromhisdaredevilleapthroughthewindow.

“I’mfine.You?”Henodsdownathisarm,whichiscutopenandbleeding,drippingdownhishandandcatchingathiswand.

“This?”Georgedoesn’tevenlookatit,justflashesagrinathim.“That’snothingmate.WaitandseewhatIdotothem.”

It’salmostferocious,thewayhewalksforwardintothesmoke.Hecutsanimpressivefigure,andwithinafewseconds,itbecomesclearthatheisjustasskilledatduelingasheisatcharms.Georgecanseehisoutlineevenwhenthefightswallowshimup,thevibrantspikyhairandthetoo-longrobesthatwhiparoundathisankles,thesnappingofhisspellsandthebarkofhislaughter.It’salmostliketheyarewatchinghimcomebackaliveaftermonthsofbeingasleep,rightthereinDiagonAlley.

OnlywhenhelosessightofbothGeorgeandHarrydoesDracoshockhimselfintoaction,yankingoffhisjacketandwalkingforward.Hecan’tseewhatheisfighting,butheknowswhereitis—hecanfollowthehazyoutlines,throwsbackspellswhenonecomestowardshim,andwithinseconds,itislikeheisdoingnothingmorecomplicatedthanfollowingthestepsofadancehehadbeentaughtlongagoandalmostforgotten,steppingbackwardwhentheysteptowardshimandpressingforwardwhentheydrawback,answeringonecursewithonehex,hopingbeyondhopethatHarryisnothurt,eventhoughhelostsightofhimlongago.