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Angryisbetter.Anythingisbetterthanthis.

WhenDraoomestoagain,thepieesofpanakeonhisptehavegoneold.Harry’salreadyonhisthird.

“Wipethatsyrupoffyourfae,Potter,”isDrao’swayofgreetinghim.

Harrydoesitautomatially,outofshokandembarrassment.“You’rebak,”hestatesdumbly.

“Ididn’tleave,”Draomutters,gringathispte.Harrydoesn’tknowifDrao’sgringatitoutofspite,orifheremembersthatitwasn’tutupthirtyminutesagoandisnowtryingtoreallhowitgottothatstate.Finally,Draoraiseswearyeyesathimandasks,“Didyoujustsliemypanakes?”

Harryshovesmorepanakesinhismouth,justtosavehimtheawkwardnessoftalking.Henodswhilehewing.

Draogoesbaktogringatthepanakes,andHarryfinisheshisthirdpanakemehanially.Onehe’sdoneandthere’snothingleftonhispteforhimtostuffhismouthwith(andthere’snomoreexuseforhimtoshutup),hetries,“Doyouwantmetofeedyou?”

Hebraeshimself,readieshimselftostandupandrunshouldaforkomeforhishead,butDraojustsnortsandlooksathimpointedly.“Weasel’sgoingtohaveananeurysmfromughingtoomuhifhefindsoutthatyou’refeedingmebreakfast.”

Heraisesanarmandtriestourlhisfingersaroundtheforkagain.

It’sslowandit’sshaky,butDrao’sthereandhe’strying,soHarrygetsanotherpanakeandrespetfullylooksaway.

He’snotreallyhungryanymore.Infat,he’sfukingfull,buthelikesthis,eatingpanakeslikethis.Bythetimehe’sfinishedeatingthefourth,Draohasmanagedtoswallowthreepiees.There’ssyruponhispandthefrontofhisnightgown,andthere’salsosomedrippingdownhisarm,butHarryrespetfullylooksawayfromthat,too.

Draomakesitthroughhalfofhispte,beforetheforkslipsfromhisfingersandnksloudlyonthemarblefloorofhisbalony,andHarrylooksupathim,readytoaskifheshouldgetitforhim,butDrao’sgoneagain.

Hisgazeisvaant,staringbnklyathispte.

Harrystandsupbeforethesqueezingpaininhishestansettle,andhegoesaroundthetablesoheanpikuptheforknearDrao’sfeet.

Onhiswayup,hegnesatDrao’sfae.Thereisnoreognition,nolife,butthereissyrupattheornerofhismouth.

Harrysighsandreahesforanapkin.“You’retheonewhoshouldwipethesyrupoffyourfae,”hemuttersandgentlydabsatDrao’sheek.

It’sdefinitelyweird,takingareofDraoMalfoy.

Or,well,heisn’treallysupposedtobetakingareofDraoMalfoy.He’sjustreallyheretokeephimompany,avoidthemediawhilehe’satit,andeatthebreakfastthatMalfoydoesn’teat.

ButhewipesthesyrupoffofDrao’smouthanyway,andhisarm,andthensearhesforhiswandinhispokettoharmDrao’slotheslean.

“Whatdoyoumeanyoudidn’tleave?”HarryaskstwentyminutesterwhenDrao’sbakandthepanakesandthemessonthetablehaddisappearedwithapop.Twosteamingmugsofteahaverepedthem.

Draolooksathimwearily,asifhe’sweighingwhetherheshouldagreetoengageiniviloionwithhim.Intheend,hesighsandtalks.“It’s…hazy.ButIstillknowwhat’shappening.Sometimes.Don’tthinkIdidn’tseeyouwipingmyfaelikeahild,Potter.Don’teverdothatagain.”

“ShouldIhavejustleftthesyruponyourfae?”

Draosnorts.“Youshouldhavejustleft,period.”

“Thepanakesweren’tgoingtoeatthemselves,”Harrydefends.

“Don’tyouhaveenoughpanakeswiththoseweasels?I’msuretheWeaslettewouldlovetofallalloveryourfeetandhandfeedyou.”

It’sanattempttogetunderhisskin,anditworks,beauseeverythingthatDraosaysworks,butHarrytrieshisbesttostampdownhisirritation.“Don’tallthemthat.”

“I’llallthemwhateverIlike.”

Harrysighsloudly.Hehasfottenwhatit’slike,tohaveDraoMalfoybesuhanirritatinggit.Healmostwantstoriseuptothebait.“PanakeswereFred’sfavourite.Theyhaven’tookedthemsine…Well,youknow.”

HelooksatDraothen,andisn’tpreparedfortheshamethat’sevidentonhisfae.

Heisn’tsurprisedwhen,momentster,theexpressiononDrao’sfaemeltsawayandhisbodygoessk.

“Fredisn’tyourfault,youknow,”Harrysays,anhourter,whenDraoomesbak.

He’sfigureditout,somewhat.ThethingsthatmakeDraodisappear.ButalthoughDraodoesn’tseemtoliketalkingaboutthethingsthathedidorthethingshethinksthathappenedbeauseofit,Harrythinksthatmaybe,Draoneedstotalkaboutit.

“Iknow.”

“Doyou?”

Draodoesn’tanswer.Helooksaway.“Sothat’swhyyou’vebeenominghere,beauseofthekofpanakes?”

Harryshootshimagrin.“Yougotme.”

Andthat’showtheyspendtherestofthem.WhenDrao’sgone,HarrywritesaletterforHermione.Hetellsherthatshe’llbeproudofthefatthathe’sbeenstudying.Healsotellsher,forthefirsttime,thatDraoMalfoyisoutofAzkabanandthatHarry’sbeenlookingafterhim.

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