分卷阅读11（1 / 2）

“You can walk,” Harry blurts out instead, by way of greeting.

“Excellent observation skills, Potter. I do still have my two legs with me.”

Harry flushes at that. “But, I mean…Like your hand.”

“I don’t spend the rest of my days stuck in the wheelchair waiting for the next time Saint Potter comes back to save me, you know.”

A flash of hurt lances through him with that. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Surprised I could do it without your help?”

“Malfoy.”

“Or sad that you couldn’t show off your hero complex and tell the world how you helped an ex-Death Eater walk again?”

“Malfoy.”

Draco opens his mouth for his next retort.

Harry cuts him off before he really starts to go at it. “I’m happy to see you up on your feet again.”

Draco’s mouth closes. His eyes widen and Harry watches, amazed as Draco turns away and the tips of his ears colour. “Don’t think so little of me.”

“I’m not,” Harry says, walking out of the balcony and into the garden. There are butterflies flying around. He doesn’t know if they’re real or magicked. “At least now I don’t have to push you around. You were getting heavy.”

Draco glares at him. “Are you saying I’m getting fat?!”

“Well, you haven’t really been exercising lately.”

Draco turns, one foot stepping in front of the other. “I’ll have you know —!” And then his knees crumple from underneath him, and Harry thanks whatever god is up there that he still has his reflexes from fighting in the war. He leaps in, catches Draco’s shoulders, but is knocked off balance by the sudden weight.

He ends up half on the bush of carnations and half on grass, Draco sprawled over his lap.

To his surprise, Draco starts laughing.

The small edges of the bush’s branches dig painfully into his skin, but Draco’s laughter is contagious, especially when he looks so open and relaxed like that.