&akes Harry’s silene as a yes. He sighs, stares at the floor. “Man, I still do. I an’t say I’m happy about eo him.”
This time, Harry loses his eyes, as Malf shoulders appear behind his eyelids. “Yeah.”
“D’you rekon he’ll ome bak to Hogwarts?”
“I don’t know. I think it…it depends.”
Ron nods, uands what he doesn’t say. “Mrs. Malfoy wrote for us to tell you that you an ome bak.”
Harry nods, shame making his heeks burn at how he just simply turail and ran from the Manor. “Thanks, Ron.”
“Y bak, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” Ron looks like he still wants to say somethi does. He’s still looking at the floor, eyebrows furrowed, teeth w his lower lip, and his hand i, but Harry sees the exat moment wheht, Harry.
“e on,” Ron says, and his smile doesn’t quite reah his eyes, beause he still does Harry’s obsession over Drao Malfoy, and Harry does himself either, but he’s still thankful that R.
Ron stands up, strethes, and gives him a little gri you hungry?”
Harry isn’t, he goes as as if he is anyway.
Hermione’s in Australia, reaquais with the daughter they fot they had.
Harry and Ron are worried. Her letters talk about things that are okay (her parents are ihey know who she is now), but avoids talking about the things that are not (why they haveo E, and how muh do her parents know? How muh of their memories were returhey know she’s purposefully keeping it from them, beause they’re all gh something, ahio do is to add to that.
It has beehs si saw her, and it’s like something’s missing whe here. They both wa Harry knows that Ron wants that in a way that’s different.
&hat something happened during…well, during, and that’s what they talk about while eating Molly’s roast beef aoes.
It’s beehs sihe war, siever happeween Ron and Hermio’s the first time Harry has asked, mai didhe right time then to talk about suh things when Fred’s dead and Remus’ dead ae all those funerals.
After, when Harry’s bak in bed and Ron’s gone and Kreaher’s leahe ptes, Harry thinks to himself that maybe why Ron isn’t angry at him f himself with Malfoy so muh is beause he uands what it’s like for all yhts ao be onsumed by one person.
Harry doesn’t k if he likes that parallel.
Ron and Hermione.
Him and…
&o sleep before he an finish verbalizing that thought.
Harry visits the m.
Malfoy’s gaze is bnk again, ahat, but that still doesn’t stop the well of disappoi i of his stomah.
“He omes and goes,” Narissa says softly from beside him. Her gaze towards her son is sad. “It’s episodi. The healers say it’s a form of disassoiation, his mind’s way of getting through the trauma of Azkaban and beihe Dementors.”
Harry realls what it feels like. The sinking feeling of dread ah, all the ing out from his fiips, as if the blood in his veins is sl to ie. He holds his breath, sared to ask. “Did they…”
Narissa shakes her head firmly. “No, but I take it you’ve seeor before?”
Was almost Kissed by ohinks, but keeps it to himself. “Yes, I have.”
“Then you know what it feels like. And th it again and again, every day, for three months.”
Harry feels sik just thinking about it.
& a soft sigh, Narissa sits down on one hair and waves a hand for Harry to sit oher.
He does, aross from Drao, who’s awake, breathing, but his gaze is dista again. His white blond hair sind, and his haop of eah other on his p. He looks almost…gentle.
Narissa folloologize for the ht, Mr. Potter.”
“Harry,” Harry uts ier is too formal, too remi of their old retionship, espeially in this house. “And no. You doo apologize for that.”
Narissa looks at him i’s lear that she did . But a smile sloears o’s wistful. “Thank you, Harry.”
This time, she shifts ihat her body is faing him ompletely, as if she is giviteurns serious. “I an’t say I uand why you feel responsibility over my soually worried about you.”
Harry sits up straight, startled at what she’s insinuating. The defeely on his lips. “I don’t…I don’t mean any harm,” he says, hurt.
“No, you misuand me,” Narissa rushes to assure him. She shakes her head. “Voldemort—” And the unflinhing way that Narissa says his name has Harry w just where did this womahis e. “—is gone, and sn of terror, all beause of you. You’re a hero, Harry. You ahing you want and it will be given to you. You ao live however you want. erning yourself over Drao is, I uand, a…” Here, her lips press tightly agaiher, and there is an expression of pain that flitters aross her fae. “A hi, perhaps?”