heturnsaway,fromdrao’ssofthairandthememoriesoffire.

draofurrowshiseyebrowsathim,andthenatthepanakesonthetable.ittakesawhileforhimtorespond,buthiseyeslearandhesays,“getyourfilthyfingersoffmypanakes.”

harryseesthemomentthatdraoonfirmsthathereallyisindeedharrypotter.

“oh.”

“potter.”

aboveandoutoftheinferno.

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“yeah.”

andit’sthisoionagainandharry’stense,wifwhathappenedbeforewillrepeatitself.narissaisn’theretohelphimanymoreandharrywouldn’tknowwhattodo.

drao,ashehasalwaysdone

thatwasjustthegripofsomeonewhowantedtostayalive.

hisforkdropsinsurprise.flushing,helooksup.“malfoy.”

thatwasn’tthegripofsomeonewhowantedtoservevoldemort.

hepiksuphisfork,takesapanakefromtheservingpte,andletsitploponhisown.

“no,malfoy,i’mjustheretoeatyourpanakes.”

butthistime,draoseemstoreonilewhathe’sseeingwithwhatever’sinhishead,andhevisiblyrexes,leaningbakonhiswheelhair.“etoobservemeinmymiserythen?”

draoslowlygnesouttowardsthegarden.“isthisthemanor?”

harryshrugsnervously.hefeelslikehe’sjustbeenaughtdoingsomethinghewasn’tsupposedtobedoing.hesupposesthatitisweirdtosuddenlywakeupandhaveyourlong-timeenemyinyourhouseeatingyourpanakes.“yeah.”

“well,you’renoteatingthem.”

andharryrealizesthatdraoremembershim,remembersalotmoreabouthim,ifhe’sgoingtogobaktooldhabitsandhisusualsnark.hefeelsunbearablyhappyatthat.

“you’re…”malfoysquints.