Chapter7

Drao

“eon,”Harryhadsaid.HewastuggingonDrao’shand,hairstillmessyfromsleepandasmilepyingoverhisfae.“It’llbefun.”

Draodidn’twantto.Hedidn’twanttobeauseHarrywasmakinghimgooutside,andtoDiagonAlleynoless,wherehewouldbereognized,wherepeoplewouldstareandmutterandsnarlawfulthingsbehindtheirhandsandmaybeevensendtrippingspellsathisfeet,andhewouldbewithHarry,andifHarrysawallthathewouldrealizewhatanawfulmistakehehadmade,whatkindofpersonhehadinvitedintohishome—butHarrywassmilingdownathimandtouhinghimandDraoisquiklylosinghisabilitytosaynotothingswhenHarryislookingathimlikethat,sohethrowstheboffofhim(Idon’tsleepverywell,Hermionesaidwhenshegaveittohim,thrustingabundleofblueintohishands,soIthoughtI’dmakeyouonetoo)andgettingtohisfeet.

“Alright,”Hehadsaid,eventhoughthethoughtofsteppingfootoutsidethishousemakeshisstomahurlinonitself,andHarry’ssmilegetsbigger.“I’llgo,youbastard.”

Therewasnobiteinhiswords,andtwohoursterhefoundhimselfwalkingthroughtheLeakyCauldron,listeningtoHarrysayhitoOldTom,whodespiteeveryonewhohadbeenlostinthepastfewyears,wasstillputteringaroundinhisbarandhurningoutpotsofwateryoffee.Whentheywalkoutintothealley,Draohastosquintagainstthesuddenburstofsunlight,androwdsintoHarrywithoutnotiingit.

“Alright?”

Draoknew,withoutHarryneedingtoreallysayit,thatifDraotrulywasn’talright,theywouldturnaroundandapparatehomeandnotmentionit,andHarrywouldspendhisdayofflikehehadspenteveryotherdayoff.Butsuddenly,Draowantedtobeabletowalkthroughthisalleywayandsqueezehiswaythroughtheothershopperswithoutdrawingseondgnes,wantedtobeafreemanwhodidn’tfeellikeheneededtobeinhains.Andmaybetheonlywaytodoitistofaethingslikethisheadon.

Andbesides,Harrywaswithhim.It’snotlikeanythingwasgoingtohappenwhenHarrywaswithhim.

Draotakesadeepbreath,foreshimselftobetheoneandtakethefirststepintotherowd,evenifhedoessearhbehindhimandkeephisfingerstouhingHarry’swrist,likeHarrywasalifebuoyandhewoulddrownifheletgoforevenaseond.

“Alright.”Anditwas.

Theygointotheapothearyfirst.Thatwasthewholepointofthetrip,beauseheandHermioneneedednewingredientsfortheirexperiments,andwhenDraohadgivenHarrythelist,hehadlookedfaintlyembarrassedandthenonfessedthathehadnoideawhattolookfor.

“Youreallylikethisstuff,huh?”Harrywassittingupontheounter,beausethegirlbehindtheounterwasfriendswithhimanddeidedsheouldtakeabreakwhilehewasintheshop(notlikeanyone’sgoingtotryanythingwithyouinhere,eh,Harry?)soitwasjustthetwoofthem.Draoouldn’timagineHogwartsHarrybeingthepersontolimbuponountersandpikupitemsthathehadnoiionofbuyingjusttoringeatwhatwasinside.ShoolHarryhadbeenmuhlessimposing,butmaybethisonehadgrownintohisskinabitmore.

“Ido.”Hehadafullbasketbesidehim,fullofoddbitsofthisandthat.“Itwasalways…soothingIguess.”

“Andyouweregoodatit.”Harryoffers,andhisgazewasfixedonDraonow,themomentomingsosuddenthatDraodukedaroundasetofshelvestobreakit.“Youalwaysdidlikebeinggoodatthings.”

“Thatwaspartofit.”Foramoment,Draothoughttheywereingalongtheedgeofsomethinggerousandthoughtaboutpyingalong,ofturningthismomentintosomethingompletelydifferent.Andheouldhave,godknowshe’ddoneitbefore,buthisthroatseemedtodryupandthewordswouldn’tomeout.Heholdsupthebaskettobreakthetension,instead,fafriendlysmileonhisfae.“Youwantanything?”

Harrystartled,jumpingevenmorewhentheountergirl(Hannah?)ameoutofthebak,thebellonthedoortinkling.IwasnietoknowthatDraowasn’ttheonlyonefeelingthetensionintheair.“No.”Hesrathedthebakofhisnek,ruffledhishairsoitfelldownoverhissar.Hewasdueforahairutsoon.“Notfromhere.”

Theybounedfromstoretostore,afterthat,fromthebookstoretothedelitoevendukingintoBinandBurkesforsomereason(DraohadthesneakingsuspiionthatHarrywaseithertryingtoinludehispastisordoingsomedetetiveworkwhileDrao’sbakwasturned),untilfinallyndingintheQuiddithsupplystore.

“Iwantanewbroom.”Harrysaid,runninghisfingersdownthehandleoftheonethatthemanagerhadleftforthemtosuspet,eyesing.Draofiguredthisiswhathemusthavelookedlikebakintheapothearyshop.“Deserveit,afterstyear,huh?”

“Thenbuyit.”Draowasn’tusedtolivingwithsomeonelikeharry,apersonwhohadfeltwhatitwastoneedtoonservemoney.InDrao’shouse,ifyousawsomethingyouwanted,yougotit,nomattertheost.(Eveniftheostwasn’tmoary.)“UsesomeofyourProphetmoney.”

OneofthetrialsafterthewarenteredaroundtheProphetandallthefalsestoriestheyhadbeenprinting.Theresultwasasiftheyhadturnedthewholebuildingupsidedownandshookit,untileveryorruptededitorsandwritershadfallenout,firedandwithoutanotherjobtoturnto.AndHarrygotalotofreparationmoneyforthethingstheyhadprintedabouthiminhisfifthyear.

Harrylookedtemptedforamoment,butthenheputitbakandlookedaroundforthemanager,whoheeitherwantedtosaygoodbyetoorthank.He’salwaysunfailinglypolitetothepeoplew.“Nah.WherewouldIflyit,anyways?”Butthenhewasturningbaktoitagain,so

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