(Besides,iftheuniversewasevergoingtosendhimasigntotellhimthathewasmakingamomentousmistake,havingafightbreakoutjustbeforeheouldhokeoutthewordswasaprettygoodone.)

“Whennothingissared,notargettosmall,everythingbeomesapeofuainty.”Draoisstilltalking,stillstaringoutthewindow.“Everythingissomethingtheyandestroy,eventhethingsthatdon’tseemtomattermuh,outsideofwhattheymeantothepeoplewhoareaboutit.”

“Weshouldhaveknown.”Ginnyiswhitefaedwiththepain,andshehastospeakthroughgrittedteeth.Lunahasnotlefthersidesinetheygothere,herhandsflutteringfromhershoulderstoherhairtohoverwherethebreakswere,butitwasn’tenough.“Weshouldhaveknownthefightwouldn’tendwithhim.There’salwayssomethingleftover.”

Howouldwehaveknown?Harrythinks,whentheyallnod,grimfaedwiththeirfearandtheresignationofthebattlesyettoome.We’rekidspyingatawarwedon’tknowhowtofight.

“What’somingwillome,”Hehearshimselfsay,beauseheistheleader,always,alwayshadthatthrustuponhimevenwhenhedidnotwantit,andhehastosaysomethingtoeasethefear.“Andwe’llmeetitwhenitdoes.”

Chapter27

Harry

sideringthatHarryhadlivedinadormitorywithourotherboysformostofhislife,hehadhadhisshareofmomentswherehewalkedinonsomeonedoingsomethingtheyshouldn’t,orthattheydidn’twantotherstoknowabout.LikeNevillewritinginhisdiarythatataloguesthewell-beingofhispnts,orwhenheathesRonreadingthepaperbakromanesthatHermionehadinallyboughtforhimasajokebirthdaypresentorthatonetimewhenhewalkedinonSeamusandDeankissingbeforetheywerereadyforanyonetoknowabout.

Sohegetstheprotool.Abouthowsometimespeoplelivingtogetherstillwanttheirspae,andthattheotherpersonsometimesbargesinonaprivatemomentwithoutmeaningto.Thattherearethings,sometimesnotevenbadthings,justprivatethings,thattheotherpersondoesnotshouttotheworld.Howyouhavetofightpasttheembarrassmenttomakeyourexusesandexittheroom,andafewhourster,you’llbothbeoverit.

It’swhatHarryshouldbedoingrightnow,onlyheouldn’tfigureoutwhatDraowouldbedoingthathe’sembarrassedabout.

“Hey.”Itwaste,whihmeantthathewasalreadyasleep.Harryhadn’texpetedhimtobeawake—HarryhadintendedtostaythenightatRon’shouseaftergoingouttothepub,afraidthathewouldbetoodrunktoapparatesafely,butbythetimethenightwasover,hefoundthathewasstilljustassoberashehadbeenwhenthedaybegan,soheamehome,anyways.“Ididn’tmeantowakeyouup.”

“No,youdidn’t.”Draosaid,andthensmoothedwrinklesoutofthesheetsinsteadoflookinghimintheeye,mostlybeausetheybothknewthathewaslying.TheonlyreasonDraohadwokenupwasbeauseHarryhadtrippedoverapileofbookswhenhewalkedinandsentthemalltumblingtothefloor,himalongwiththem.ThenoisehadsaredDraosobadHarryjustountedhimselflukyhehadn’tbeenhexed.“Whatareyoudoinghome?”

“Wasn’tasteanightasIwasexpeting.”Harrytriedtosmile,butheouldn’t,beausesomethingwasdefinitelywrong.ItsortoffeltlikehowHarrywouldhaveexpetedthetensiontobeifhehadeveraughtsomeoneheatingonhim,whihisaweirdomparison,beausetherewasheranyagreeduponromantiattahmentoranotherpersonintheroom.“ThoughtI’domeuphere.”

ImeanttostayoverbutthenIwasstrethedoutontheirouhwithitslumpyushionsandrealizedthattherewasnowaythatIouldfallasleep,notwithoutthesoundofyourbreathingtoassuremethateverythingwasokay,thatweweresafe.Ithoughtthatyoufeltthesameway.Ithoughtyou’dbehappytohavemebakforthenight.Youtoldmethatthishelpsyousleep,too,orwasthatjustsomethingtomakemefeelbetter?

“Yeah.”Draostillwasn’tmovingover,notlikehealwaysdid.Hewasjustsittingthere,staring.“Good.Great.”

IttakesanembarrassinglylongtimeforHarrytogetit.Timewherehethinksabouthowthiswasallabouthim,allfromsomefaulthedidnotknowhehad,anoffensethathehadnotmeant.Ittakeshimthroughhanginghislothesandbrushinghisteethandwashinghishandstwiejusttofeeltheoldwaterrunoverhiswristsuntilheturnsbaktothebedandrealizesthatsomethingwasdifferent.

Draowaswearingashortsleeveshirt.

Thefataloneshouldn’thavemeantanything.It’sweird,nowthatHarrystopstothinkaboutit,thathehadneverseenhisroommateinashortsleeveshirtbefore,nowthatitisapproahingspringandthehousegetsunbearablystuffy.ThathewouldhoosetobeompletelyoveredwhenheshimselfaroundHarryandgetsburiedunderhalltheovers.

(ThisisoneofthosemomentswhereheanhearHermione’svoieinhishead,moaningonaboutboysandhowimpossiblyobtuseyouare,Harry,Ian’tbelieveitandyou’vegottheemotionalrangeofatablespoon,Harry,whihisbetterthanRonbutnotbymuh.)

Itmeansthatforthefirsttimeduringtheirstaytogether,Harryanseethedarkmark.

Hetriestoatlikeeverythingisnormal.Helimbsintobed,pullsuptheovers,turnssoheislyingwithhisheadproppeduponDrao’sshoulder.TriestopretendthatheisnotstaringattheshadowofitagainstDrao’sskin.

“Ijust.”There’safrantisramblewherehetriestofreehimselffromtheoversandtwiststograbtheoldjumpedflungoverthedeskhair.It’soneofHarry’s,oneMrs.WeasleymadehimfortheChristmasofhisfourthyear,theonewiththedragononit.Thesleevesarefrayingandtheolorsdull,butit’sgon

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