分卷阅读30（1 / 2）

“Yeah, that bloke from the—uh—your department,” Ron gulped. “Sableton? He was leading them out. They looked rough, but they were alright.”

Hermione sat back down, a million questions in her head. It could wait. It would have to wait. She was exhausted. “Oh thank God,” she managed. “We hadn’t heard from them since this afternoon.”

Ron snorted. “You should have seen what Harry was wearing.”

“Will you stop pacing?” Draco said irritably. “I can’t concentrate when you’re making your best effort to wear a hole in the floor.” Harry glared at him. They’d been in the room for about twenty minutes. Draco had set to work, making it look like he was attempting to repair the Timepiece. Harry had been wondering what they were supposed to do next. At least, he had been silently and yet somehow very loudly expressing himself with heavy sighs, shakes of his head, and the tense pull of his face.

Harry finally had sat on the sofa to get off his nervous feet and had chosen to stare at the empty space that would eventually hold the case board. Draco decided to be honest with him, if only because it was the easiest way to stop Harry from thinking himself into a stupor. Pointing to the empty space, he said, “After I leave—after I left the penthouse this morning, well before the incident, I went to have some tea. I gathered my notes and anything Zivantus had given me and came to this room in the late afternoon.” Draco stopped and wondered at the coincidence that his room assignment later that day would be the very same room.

He could tell Harry was staring at him but Draco fixedly focused on the back of the Timepiece. “What—?”

“Your thoughts are louder than that infernal music at the nightclub,” Draco offered and dared to glance at Harry. At the mention of the nightclub, Harry tensed.

“Coming back was pointless,” Harry started. He shook his head. “We can’t even get Valentine.”

Draco frowned. “We wouldn’t know about him if we hadn’t come back.” He wondered if being taskless in the hotel room had caused Harry to regret the moments they’d shared earlier. If Draco thought back to those seconds where it’d seemed as if there was nothing but the feel of their own breath between them, he would feel exposed. Harry had peeled away layers he didn’t know he’d had, and he still wasn’t sure if that simplified his feelings for Harry or somehow made them more complicated. “And it wasn’t pointless to me, Harry.”

Harry crossed his arms and frowned, the unmistakable look of shame washing over him. So that was it, then? Draco supposed he should have realized Harry wouldn’t reciprocate. Was it their history? Draco’s Mark? Or the fact that he was a man? He put down the cool metal in his hand and leaned over to stare at Harry, suddenly unable to do anything else until he found out why. “Within these four walls, right now in this moment, can we promise each other honesty?”

“I’m always honest—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Harry,” Draco replied, hoping his brash tone would push Harry far enough to answer truthfully. Sometimes Draco thought Harry’s anger was the most honest thing about him apart from his loyalty, bravery, and empathy.

Harry’s face flushed with anger. “There you go! You want honesty, Draco? Half the time I can’t even think because you make me so bloody angry!” He shot up and walked into the entranceway, his back turned. He stood still for a few minutes, but Draco knew he wasn’t done. Harry’s next admission surprised him, though, “You were right. Back at Zivantus’ house.” Harry turned and focused on Draco, his gaze insecure. “You were supposed to be this irredeemable git. The lines were drawn, and it was easy.”

“It was comforting,” Draco offered.

“Yes! And you and I had our roles. You were horrible, Draco. You took the Mark, and you were horrible, siding with him. People died because of you,” Harry shook his head, working himself up again. He closed his eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath. “People died because of me too, though. And I always knew why you did what you did, and that made me even madder. I didn’t want to understand you. When you lied for me? When you shouted my name that night? It filled me with rage. You weren’t supposed to—” Draco couldn’t tell if his heart was sinking at Harry’s words or filling with some rare, twisted hope. Harry shuddered. “You’d changed.”

Draco hadn’t realized he’d been clutching his legs in a firm grip until Harry’s words sent a wave of relief through him and he’d let go.

“But now? You’re this—this good guy. You’re actively good, better than me even, bloody hell Draco you’re an Unspeakable!” Harry’s face washed with fear. “The magnitude of this case—the repercussions, what we could be up against—” Draco realized that not only had Harry been seeing him in a new way, but he’d been pulled back into a type of fearful uncertainty reminiscent of the days of Voldemort, and the line between the past and the present had blurred. As if sensing Draco’s understanding, Harry continued, “We’re on the same side now, we want the same things, it’s—” Harry walked back and stood across from Draco, the coffee table between them. He sighed, “Sorry, I’ve been ranting, and—I just—I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. You’ve ripped me open with all of this spilling out in the middle of this case.” Harry sat in one of the armchairs, a look of defeat on his face. “I’m ashamed that this is all I can think about when Bertrice is still out there.”

Draco almost laughed as Harry’s words alleviated his fears. He licked his lips. “You know you’re the angriest person I’ve ever met, Harry,” he put up a hand to silence any reply until he’d finished. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing; it’s just who you are. There will always be something that rattles you, it’s what makes you so, so strong, so ready to fight for something. To do something—instead of sitting and waiting for the outcome to reveal itself.” Draco smiled, “It took me a while, but I—” Draco thought about his curse, the threads of Fate pushing him forward, beckoning with the tease of possibility. He closed his eyes. “I’ve come to realize that I stayed in the shadows of mine and others’ doubts where it felt safe, comfortable,” his voice was shaking, “until it wasn’t safe anymore.”

When Draco opened his eyes, he gasped. He’d been so wrapped up in the words of his admission, he hadn’t realized Harry came and sat next to him. Green eyes bore into him as the other man asked, “And if not in the shadows of doubt, where are you now?”