分卷阅读25（2 / 2）

“Things?” He rounded on her, intending to bully her over something that wasn’t her fault like he used to, but then he takes in her trusting face and wide eyes and can’t bring himself to do it, which is a shame. It would have made him feel better. “What things, exactly?”

Luna shrugs. “People don’t always like to cooperate when they’re being arrested for murder.” Which, okay, fair, but not a good enough explanation, because Draco was still concocting images of Harry bleeding out on the ground somewhere and Draco never getting the chance to tell him good bye, or sorry, or how grateful he was that Harry stood up that day at the ministry. But then Luna yanks him away from his worry entirely by suggesting they make a cake.

“Why the bloody hell would we make a cake?”

He stares at her. For the most part, Draco has become used to the idea that Luna does not see things the way that everyone else does, but he didn’t see how cooking would improve the situation.

“Ginny’s always hungry after these sorts of things.” She waved her hand in the air, like these sorts of things were as complicated and worrisome as a two a day Quidditch practice. “I think it’s a chocolate sort of night.”

Draco stops to stare at her, and then realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to turn her loose in his spotless kitchen. And also that maybe he doesn’t want to just keep sitting in here all by himself.

“Yeah, alright.” He heaves himself off the couch. “But I pick the frosting.”

When Harry does finally stumble in the door, Draco’s so caught up in fighting with Luna over the frosting that he doesn’t notice it at first. But then Luna disappears, letting go of the frosting tube so quickly he accidently smears bright blue icing on his cheek, and Draco realizes that they aren’t alone anymore.

Harry is waiting at the doorway, smiling and sheepish. “Sorry.” He holds out his arms, like he knows that Draco is just dying to hug him. “Took longer than expected.”

Draco’s angry, and a little miffed, but that doesn’t stop him from running across the room to get to him. “What happened?” He was running his hands over his face and arms, finding the place where he was hurt, because he had to be hurt, right, to be back this late? “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Harry pushed up his sleeve to show a burn on the inside of his arm. “Just a scratch.”

It’s looking to be a nice reunion, but then a kick to the shins from Ginny sends Harry stumbling backwards, cursing. “Speak for yourself.” She’s got blood all over her, soaking into her clothes, and grass and twigs strewn through her hair. “I was the one that about got bloody murdered.”

Bloody murdered is an apt description. She’s got a gash across her stomach, and it takes Luna three waves of her wand to have it knit back together. It’s seamless, without even a shimmer of a scar left behind, and the sight of it all makes the scars on Draco’s chest ache.

“Don’t play that card.” Harry says, swatting at her, even though Draco can’t help but notice how careful he is around her, helping her sit and bringing her a glass of water before she can try and get it herself. “We both know it was your turn to chase after the runner.”

Draco wonders if that’s really how it played out, with each of them taking a tally of who it was that went into the dangerous situation first. Like they were taking turns at chancing death, and it would be the luck of the draw that decides which one of them falls.

He doesn’t really want to know.

Ginny and Luna leave eventually, having eaten much of Draco’s cake and stole a pair of Harry’s coats to wear home. Draco follows them to the doorway because Harry still hasn’t learned common manners, and when it closes behind them, he slumps against the door, holding his head in his hands.

(His fingers come away blue, which, yeah, the frosting was still all over his face. Nice friends, letting him know, especially considering Ginny went crazy with her polaroid.)