(Notover,over.Hewasgoingtomakethatlearbeforeheevenstartedtalking.Theyouldstilllivetogether,andbebestfriends,andatliketheyan’tfuntioniftheydon’twalkaroundlikethey’reattahedtothehip,butthere’sertainthingsthattheyneedtogetridofifthey’reevergoingtomanagetobeomesomethingmore.Thingslikethebedsharing,andthehugging,andthekissingwithouttalkingaboutit,andsayingIloveyouandpretendingtheymeanitptoniallyeventhoughtheybothknowthewordsaretooheavyintheirmouthstomeanthatlittle.Itwouldn’tturnintoanythingiftheykeptthrowingroadbloksupintheirownway.)

InHarry’shead,histhoughtproesswassimple.Itwasn’tthathedidn’twanttokeepallofthat,itwasjustthathewasundertheimpressionthatmaybetheywouldhaveasturdierfoundationiftheythrewawayalltheirshakybeginningsandstartedbuildingitallupfromsrath.Inhishead,Draowoulduand,andthetwoofthemouldshifttheirnot-so-funtionalretionshipintosomethingbetter,andmovepastbeingjustfriendswhentheywerebothstandingonsolidground,withDraonothavingtheknowledgethatonewordfromHarryouldsendhimbaktoAzkabanhangingoverhishead.

Itwaseasiertothinkofsayingsomethingthanatuallyfthewordsout,soeventhoughHarrywastryingtosoftentheblowwithanightoutandiereamthathebought(healwaysbuys,beausehelikestoonsiderhimselfagentleman,eventhoughDraoalwayssrunheshisnoseupandgiveshimthislook,likeheknowsexatlywhathe’stryingtodoandthinksit’sompletelystupid),heouldn’tquitemakehimselfdoit.Draojustlookedsohappy,andforonehewasn’thekingoverhisshoulderforimaginaryenemieseveryfiveseonds.TherewasiereamstuktothesideofhisheekbutHarrywasn’ttellinghim,andwhentheyleftthestore,DraotookHarry’shandinhisliketherewasnoquestionthatthatwaswheretheybelonged.

Like,afterallthistime,theyhadjustbeomeanextensionofeahother,andthathurts,hurtssobadthatHarryforesthewordsupfrombehindthelumpthatwasgrowinginhisthroatandtriestomakethewordsrashthroughthebarrierthathadformedbehindhisteeth,buttheydon’tome,notevenlose.“Drao.”Draoturnstofaehim,andheisholdingbothhandsnow,tiltinghisheadtolookupathimbeauseheisontheftgroundandHarryisstillstandingonthestepabovehim.“Drao,Ineedtotellyousomething.”

He’sonfused,buthedoesnotlookworried.Theremighthavebeenatimewherethosewordswouldhavesenthimintoapani,thinkingthatthiswasoverandHarrywassendinghimaway,butnowtheirfriendshipwassetinstone,upuntilthemomentHarrysayswhathehadbroughthimheretosayandsendsitallrumblingbakintopiees.“What’sthat,Harry?”

Draoalsolooksbeautiful.Theyareunderastreetlight,andhishair,whihhasgrownmuhtoolongtobeassleekandshinyasitwasbakinHogwarts,fallsoverhisfaeinafuzzyhalo.Harryresiststheurgetopushitawayfromhisfaeandlooksupattheskyinstead,whihisstreakedwiththeststrandsofasu.

(He’salmostsorrythathehadtosayitinapethislovely,buthehasnootheroption.Heouldnotdoitathome,withallthememories,andheouldnotbringhimselftotaintanypartoftheirlifewithhiswords.Ithadtobesomepedifferent,somewherethathadtheleasthaneoffollowingthemhome.)

“Ijust…”Hegivesupontryingtobestrongandreahesouttohim,andDraomeltsintohistouh.Itouldbeperfet,ifHarryletit.Itouldbeeverything,ifhewouldjustgiveupontryingtodothingstherightway.Ifhewouldonlystoptryingtosavehimwhenhemightnotneedsaving.Mightnotwantsaving.“Weneedtostop.Todosomethingdifferent.”

Hestillisn’tgettingit.“Whatdoyoumean?”Draostartstotakeastepbak,falters,andthenomesbaktowardsHarryagain,beausehestillannotfathomthethoughtthatHarrymightbetheonetohurthim,afterallhisworryaboutwhatstrangersmightbethinking.“Idon’tuand.”

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

Heintendstotellhimthatit’sover.That’swhathehadbroughthimtherefor,andthat’swhathewasgoingtodo,evenifitkilledhim,justassoonashegatheredupthenerve,butthenthestreetexplodedinwhathethoughtmusthavebeenhalfofGee’sstokoffireworks,andhefoundthathehadrunoutoftime.

Drao

It’slikethewaragain,beausespellsareflyingbyhimandit’ssaryandheoulddieatanymoment,butitalsoisn’t,beausethistime,finally,heisfightingontherightsideofthings,withHarrydisappearingsomewhereintothefray,swallowedupbythesmokeandthefshesoflights,andGeeleapingoutofthebusteddispywindowofhisshop,sleevespusheduptotheelbowsandrobesbillowingoutbehindhim.

(It’sagloriousentrane,wandspinningandredhairfshingthroughthesmokeandndinginarouh,asnarlinhisvoieandasmirkonhisfae,likeheouldnotwaittotearsomeonetopiees.Itwasalmostterrifyingtoseehim,andDraowaskindofjealous.)

“Youalrightmate?”Geerossesthefewstepstohimlikethey’reseeingeahotherfromoppositeendsupofabar,nothingspeial,justtwofriendsrunningintoeahotherafteralongweekofwork.Thegssrunhesunderhisfeet,andhiseyesaredartingaroundthestreet,andwhenhedrawseventohim,Draoanseethatheisbleedingfromhisdaredevilleapthroughthewindow.

“I’mfine.You?”Henodsdownathisarm,whihisutopenandbleeding,drippingdownhishandandathingathiswand.

“This?”Ge

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