Dracoslowlynodded,tooconfusedtospeakproperly.
Whenheputthesuitinhiswardrobethatevening,hestaredatitforlongerthanwasprobablynormal.Buthecouldn’thelpit.Notonlydidthatsuitlookcompletelyoutofplace,nexttohisotherclothes,italsofeltoutofplace.Becausethatsuitseemedtobeholdingapromise;apromiseDracowasfairlysurePotterwouldn’tbeabletokeep.
Saturday,18January2003
“Ibroughtyousomething,”Pottersaidashesteppedoutofthefireplace.DracopeekedoverandsawhewasholdingabottleofOgden’sfinest.
“Atleastyouhavethesensetocomebearinggifts,”hedrawled,notbotheringtogetoutofhisarmchairandturninghisattentionbacktohisbook.
“Well,Ithoughtsinceweemptiedthatfancybottleofwinetheothernight,I’dmakeupforit.”
“Fancy,”Dracosnorted.Potterreallyhadnoidea.“Thatwinecosts190Galleons.”
Potterstaredathim.“What?Whywouldyoupay190Galleonsforabottleofwine?That’sinsane!”
Dracopinchedthebridgeofnoseandshookhishead.“Ihaveafeelingyouwouldn’tunderstand,evenifIexplainedittoyou.”
“Aw,youknowhowmuchIlikeitwhenyou’rebeingallsnootyandcontemptuous,”Pottersniggered.HewalkedovertoDraco,swingingonelegontothearmrest.Dracoinchedawayfromhim,eyeinghimsceptically.
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasked.
“I’mwaitingforyoutogetusglasses,”Pottershrugged.
“Youknowwheretheyare,”Dracoretorted.“Don’tactlikeyouhaven’tbeenherealmosteverydayforthelastweek.Youprobablyknowthisplacebetterthanmebynow.”
Pottergrinnedandjumpedoffthearmrest.Dracowantedtopointouthecouldhavejustsummonedtheglasses,buthekepthismouthshutashiseyeswandereddowntoPotter’sbackside.Itwasashameheseemedtopreferlooseclothing.Thenagain,itleftsomuchmoreroomforDraco’simagination,which,onsecondthought,wasn’tnecessarilyagoodthing.DaydreamingaboutPotterwasprettymuchallhewasdoingthesedays.Spendingmoretimewithhim,itseemed,onlyamplifiedhisdesire.Andeventhoughitgothardertodealwithit,hethoughthewasdoingaprettygoodjobathidingit.
Well,hedefinitelyshouldhaveknownbetter.Threeglassesin,Potterwasgettingemotionalagain.Apparently,hismother’sbirthdaywascomingup.Shewouldhaveturned43.Potterdidn’tneedtotellDracohowmuchhemissedhisparents.Hecouldhearthesorrowandtheyearninginhisvoice,ineveryshudderingbreath.Dracocouldn’thavefeltmoreuncomfortableorconfused.AllhewantedtodowaswraphisarmsaroundPotterandcomforthim.Hesettledforaslightlytremblinghandonhisshoulder.
“I’msorry,”hemuttered,avoidinglookingatPotter.Hewasabsolutelysurehisheartwouldn’tbeabletotakewhathewouldfindinPotter’seyes.
“Metoo,”Pottersaidhoarsely.Andsuddenly,Dracofeltawarmhandonhis.“WhatdoyouthinkourliveswouldbelikeifVoldemorthadneverexisted?”
Dracowasn’tsureifitwassupposedtobearhetoricalquestion.Probably,sincePottercontinuedtalkingwithoutwaitingforananswer.
“Youknow,aweekbeforethetrials,theygavemeyourfile.”
Dracostoppedbreathing.Hehadn’tknownthat.OhMerlin!ThatprobablymeantPotterhadreadallthetranscriptsofhisquestionings.HadtheyalsomadenotesabouthowDracohadbrokendownintears?HowhehadtriedtofighttheVeritaserum,screaming,becausehedidn’twanttoreliveeveryhorribledetailofthelastfewyearswhileabunchofstrangerswerescrutinisinghim?
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