“It’salright.”

“It’snot.”Harryturnedtohim,wantinghimtomakeitbetter,knowingthathewon’tbeableto.“Howouldthisstillbeathingthatsaresme?”

Beausethat’stheworstthingaboutit,really,howafterallhehaddoneitwaswhattheDursleyshaddonetohimthatleftthedeepestsars,andHermioneouldtalkallshewantsabouthildhoodandformativeyearsandrepressedmemories,Harryknowsthetruth:thisisweakness,pinandsimple,andallheeverwantedtobewasstrong.

“Beauseit’ssary.”Draosatdownbesidehim,butdoesn’ttouhhim,andHarryisgrateful.“BeauseHermioneissaredoffailingatestandRonissaredofspidersandI’msaredofheightsandthere’snothinganyofusandoaboutit,itjustis.Itdoesn’tmakeyoumoreorlessthananyoneelse,itjustmakesyouhuman.”

Weknewamanwhowasn’thuman,Harrythought,andmaybethat’swhyhelikedDraosomuh,beauseoutofallthepeopleinhislife,heistheonewhoreallyknowswhatVoldemortwaslike,howhismindworked.Whobeameobsessedwithonqueringhisownfear,thoughtthatitmeantthathewasweak.Don’tbelikethatman.

Heouldbringthatup,now,ifatanytime,buthedoesn’t.“ButyoupyedQuiddith.”

“What?”

“Yousaidyouwereafraidofheights,butyoupyedQuiddith.”Harrydidn’twanttotalkaboutVoldemortortheupboardunderthestairsorthatelr.“Why?”

“Mydadwantedmeto,”Draosaid,shrugging,andHarryisremindedofanotherthingthatHermionesaid,abouthowallparentsleavesarswhetherit’siionalornot.Hehadn’tbotheredtoaskwhatherslookedlike,butnowhewisheshehad.“I’ddoanythingtomakehimproud.”

Theysitinsileneforamomentmore,andthenDraospeaksagain.“Youdon’thavetohideit,youknow.Whenyou’reafraid.Atleastnotfromme.”Harryopenedhismouthtospeakbutouldn’tfindwhathewantedtosay,onlythathewantedtoargue.“Iknowyou’vegotthisthingwhereyouwanttoproteteveryoneyouareabout,butplease,love,letmetakesomeofthebmesometimes,okay?Believeitornot,Ianbehelpful.”

Theseofitthreatenstohokehim,sohegoesforajokeinstead.“Love?”

Draosmiled,knokshisshoulderagainstHarry’sbeforestandingup.“Don’tworryaboutthis.”Hewaveshishandattheelr.Harrydoesn’tlookatit.“I’llomefillitintomorrowm.”

Stupid,Harrythinks,butdoesn’targue.

Chapter40

Drao

Hedoesnotlooklikehisfatheranymore.

Foramoment,Draothinksofturningaround,beausehemusthavebeengiventhewrongellnumber.Thismanhuddledinthebakofhisellannotbehisfather,notwhenthemanherememberedhadstoodsotall,soproud(washidingbehindamanwhowasnotamanproud?Washebravewhenheoweredundertheshofsomeoneelse’swand,whenheletthewallsofhisownhousebeomeaage?).Thismanwasaskeleton,hiseyessunkenandthebdesofhisshoulderspromieventhroughhisshirt,theskinstrethedtootightoverthebonesinhisfae.Itouldnotbethemanheremembered,andyet—

“Dad?”Heforedhimselftotalk,thewordsbeingstrangledbythepressurebuildinginhisthroatandtakesasteploser,handsingaroundthebars.Hewantstoyankitbak,beauseitissoold,thehillbitingthroughhisskin,butthenthemanintheornerturnstowardhimandhedoesnotfeeltheoldanymore.

“Drao?”Hedragshimselftohisfeetandhastoholdontothewallforsupport,movingtowardsthegateingreat,lurhingsteps.Hishairfallsaroundhisfaeinstrings,andDraowonderswhyhehasnotbotheredtoutit.“Isthatyou?”

Hisvoieisbarelyaboveawhisper,strainedandraking.Howlonghasitbeensinehehadsomeonetotalkto?

“It’sme.”Therearetearsbuildinginhiseyes.Draohadpromisedhimselfthathewasdonewithtears.“It’sme,dad.”

“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Theyareinhesawayfromeahother.Draoouldreahthroughthebarsandtouhhimifhewantedto,buthedoesn’t.

“Iwantedtoseeyou.”Itsoundslikeaquestion.“Igotpermissionfromtheminister.”

“Goodofyou.”Hishandsaretrembling.Therearenodementors,butitisstillnotahappype—it’sold,anddamp,thewaterfromthewavessoakinginthroughraksinthestoneandspillingoutoverthefloor,theonlyomfortsalumpymattressandthreadbarelothesthatdonothingtokeepoutthehill.He’sheardthatafewhavestillgonerazy,leftaloneforaslongastheyare.“Butyoushouldn’thaveome.”

HeturnshisbakonDrao,amovethatwouldhaveonedevastatedhim,butitdoesnothavethesameaffetnow,notwhenheissoweakfromdisusethathestumblesashemovesbaktowardsthebed,almostsendinghimselfsprawling.Ididnotdeservethis,Draothinks,lookingathisfather,lookingatthisell,rememberingwhenhesatinfrontoftheWizengamotanddidnotevenfight,butnothinghedidwasbadenoughtowarrantlivingthiskindoflife.Buthisfather—Draohadlongstoppedmakingexusesforthethingshehaddone.IfIwerehere,itwouldbebeauseofhim,notbeauseofme.

“Iwantedtotalktoyou.”Hethrowshisvoiethroughthebars,butLuiusdoesnotmove.“Totellyouthings.About—aboutHarryPotter.”

There’sahissfromtheellbesidethem.Draodoesn’tflinh.

“I’veheardaboutyouandHarry.Theguardsshowedmeaneerlipping.”It’sfunny,howevenwhenyouarethebetterman,evenwhenyouarestandingontherightsideofthebars,howeasilyitisforsomeoneelsetomakeyoufeelsmall.“Thetwoofyouatae.ShouldIbeexpetingaweddinginvitationanydaynow?”

Itstings,butnotasbadlyasDraohadthoughtitwould.“Ilovehim.”Thewordsbuoyhimalittle.Hisfathermoves,o

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