“It’sme.”Therearetearsbuildinginhiseyes.Dracohadpromisedhimselfthathewasdonewithtears.“It’sme,dad.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Theyareinchesawayfromeachother.Dracocouldreachthroughthebarsandtouchhimifhewantedto,buthedoesn’t.
“Iwantedtoseeyou.”Itsoundslikeaquestion.“Igotpermissionfromtheminister.”
“Goodofyou.”Hishandsaretrembling.Therearenodementors,butitisstillnotahappyplace—it’scold,anddamp,thewaterfromthewavessoakinginthroughcracksinthestoneandspillingoutoverthefloor,theonlycomfortsalumpymattressandthreadbareclothesthatdonothingtokeepoutthechill.He’sheardthatafewhavestillgonecrazy,leftaloneforaslongastheyare.“Butyoushouldn’thavecome.”
HeturnshisbackonDraco,amovethatwouldhaveoncedevastatedhim,butitdoesnothavethesameaffectnow,notwhenheissoweakfromdisusethathestumblesashemovesbacktowardsthebed,almostsendinghimselfsprawling.Ididnotdeservethis,Dracothinks,lookingathisfather,lookingatthiscell,rememberingwhenhesatinfrontoftheWizengamotanddidnotevenfight,butnothinghedidwasbadenoughtowarrantlivingthiskindoflife.Buthisfather—Dracohadlongstoppedmakingexcusesforthethingshehaddone.IfIwerehere,itwouldbebecauseofhim,notbecauseofme.
“Iwantedtotalktoyou.”Hethrowshisvoicethroughthebars,butLuciusdoesnotmove.“Totellyouthings.About—aboutHarryPotter.”
There’sahissfromthecellbesidethem.Dracodoesn’tflinch.
“I’veheardaboutyouandHarry.Theguardsshowedmeanewspaperclipping.”It’sfunny,howevenwhenyouarethebetterman,evenwhenyouarestandingontherightsideofthebars,howeasilyitisforsomeoneelsetomakeyoufeelsmall.“Thetwoofyouatadance.ShouldIbeexpectingaweddinginvitationanydaynow?”
Itstings,butnotasbadlyasDracohadthoughtitwould.“Ilovehim.”Thewordsbuoyhimalittle.Hisfathermoves,onejerkofthearmlikeheisreachingouttohim,butdoesnotlookup.“Helovesme.AndIthinkwe’regoingtobereallyhappytogether.”
“Youthinkthat?”Hisvoicewassilkyagain.Itwashisfakepolitevoice,histalkingtotheministervoice,histhismanisamudbloodandweneedtoputhiminhisplacevoice.“Youthinkthathecouldloveyouaftereverythingyou’vedone?”
“Ididn’tdomuch.”
“Youhatedhim.Youhatedhisfriends,theWeasleyboyandthatlittlemudbloodyouwerealwayssoenamoredwith.”Thehissingstartsupagain,louder,joinedbysomeoneelsethreedoorsdown.Hewantsittostop.“YoukilledDumbledore,letdeatheatersintotheschool.Youthinkthiswilllast,whenhewakesupeachdaytoseethatmarkonyourarm?Ordoyoutrytohideit?”
Heknowsme,Dracothinks,dully,distantly,reelingabit,becauseeventhoughhehadnotknownwhattoexpect,hehadthoughtthathisfatherwouldbehappytoseehim.ButIdonotknowhim.
“Idon’tusethatwordanymore,”Hesays,keepinghisvoicelight.“Mudbloods.Verydistasteful.”
“Isee.”Hesoundsbeaten,likeeventhatattemptatreclaimingwhoheusedtobehasexhaustedhim.“Achangeofheart.”
“Ijustwantedtotellyou.Beforeyoureallydidhearaboutweddinginvitationsbeingsentandyoudon’tgetone.”Dracotightenedhisgriponthebarsagain,wonderingwhyhehadeverthoughtthismanwassospecial,soscary,andwhyitstillhurts,toseethemanhehadlovedturnedintothis.“Becauseifyou’regoingtomakemechoose,dad,I’dchooseHarryoveryoueverytime.Iwouldn’tevenhavetothinkaboutit.”
Harrylovedhim.Harrysavedhim.Harryiswhatkepthimfromfindingaplacetorotinthiscell,whenallhisfatherdidwasburyhiminmoreandmorechains.
“Thenmaybeyoushouldleave.”
Hisbackisstillturnedtohim.Dracocan’tseehisface,butthatisokay.Hedoesn’twanttorememberhimlikethis.
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