“You might wahe afternoon. He’s more…present then.”
&,” Harry repeats shakily. He looks at Drao’s form ahe guilt o his insides.
&hs in Azkaba do anything about it.
He loses his eyes, has to look away for a while. Whehem, Narissa is wathing him arefully, and Harry speaks, just as areful, “May I stay until then?”
Narissa is surprised, and it’s obvious how she tries to stop it from showing. She raises an eyebrow ales f from the Prophet, are you?”
Harry grins. It’s weak, but it’s real. He had spehree m to avoid every reporter a for ihrown his way. He thinks that Kingsley’s probably exasperated with him, but Harry doesn’t really are. He did his part. The wizarding world doeshe right to demand anything from him his’ll be the st pe they’ll think to look.”
Narissa hukles. “I rekon as well.” She straightens her shoulders, a her son. “I’ll send Molly Weasley an Owl. Stay as long as you like.”
Harry starts to refuse, insist that she does the Weasleys know that he’s gooday. Tried all triks and tatis to get him not to, but in the eh the promise that he ortkey in ase eny. He figures that Aurors st the Manor isn’t an impossible idea should he be gone for an unusually loime.
“I…Thank you.”
It’s te iernoon when Malfoy starts to stir.
So far, Harry has spent his day engaging in small, polite talk with Narissa and, wheo leave due to a Fl up on Potions with the book that Narissa had Aio’ed from Drao’s trunk. He, Ron, and Hermiowarts for their st year, jokio by Roh year, and Hermione had been nagging at them all summer to read up lest they want to go for a ninth.
He is half in the middle of hapter 4 when Malfoy stirs, as if from a long nap, and Harry waits, nervously, as Malfoy raises his head and finally sees him.
His eyes are nzed, but they squint at him, trying to remember who he is.
Harry hopes Malfoy remembers who he is.
“Potter.”
He releases a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he had been holding.
“Uhm,” he says, losing his book. “Hullo, Malfoy.”
A furrow forms between Malfht. Potter.”
Harry ly. “Yes.”
Blinking, Malfoy turns his head around, looks at his surroundings. “Am I…”
“No,” Harry responds quikly. He shakes his head, tries to alm himself. Right. He’s supposed to be the alm one here. “You’re out. You’re in the Manor.”
“Oh.” The furrow deepens. There is a frown on his fae, as he slowly looks at the marble floor, the white pilrs, the white ledge of the balony, and the garde the table, his p. His eyes wideakes a big, shaky breath. “Oh. Okay.”
And Harry isn’t prepared for the tears, the suddehat stream from Malfoy’s eyes.
Malfoy opens his ha his palms, lean and pristiakes another shaky inhale. “Merlin.”
Harry is at a loss. “Malfoy…” He starts, but doesn’t know how to finish. There’s something stuk in his throat.
“Merlin. Finally. I thought…I thought I was o get out.”
Harry shatever it is that’s in his throat and it goes down, hard. “I…I’m sorry, Malfoy.”
But Malfoy doeso hear him a seem to remember that he’s there.
He’s sobbing, head buried in his p, arembling in his wheelhair.
Harry looks at that small frame—those sharp elbows digging into his knees and his thin wrists hidihe stream of tears on his fae rumpled in despair and agony. The line of his bak huhe wheelhair, with his shoulder bdes jutting so sharply out, Harry’s almost sared that it’ll tear his skin.
It looks hideous, ao lose his eyes and look away from the sehe image of Drao Malfoy falling into piees.
& know what to do, doesn’t know if Malfoy remembers he’s there, doesn’t think that Malfoy will welome a hug. Not from him.
&he room, as quietly as he an, and stumbles his way to where Narissa said the master room was.
& really khere, his vision’s blurred and Harry betedly realizes that they’re tears. There’s something really painful i, like something mping o, ahink of is oh, god, I’m so sorry, Malfoy.
&he stunned surprise her fae one she sees him, but he doesn’t know what he says to her, only remembers Malfoy’s name slipping through his lips, and Narissa’s off, hurried footsteps, ahe hall, a turn of the knob ahe d and the lik as it loses.
And Harry rumples to the fl, and fis himself ry.
& ua uand why it affeted him so muh.
&hinks he’s rying beause he did…like this. He expeted something to happe get out of Azkabaate of mind, or at all, but he did even know what he thought anymore.