分卷阅读29（2 / 2）

She waggles her eyebrows at him, and despite himself, Draco could feel himself getting flustered. “Not like that.” What was it like, then? You sleep in the same bed. “Court ordered babysitting, basically. Kept me out of jail.”

He tries to shrug like that doesn’t mean anything, but she smiles like she knows better. And maybe she does. Lavender did always have an annoying habit of knowing everything about everybody. “That’s not what I’ve heard.” She gives him one last tired smile and raps her quill against the glass one last time. “See you around, Draco.”

“Yeah.” Part of him wants to invite her to him and Harry’s, just to catch up, but a bigger part tells him that maybe he should take this one in baby steps. “I’ll see you.”

Harry

They had made it all through dinner without Harry asking him what was wrong. And when Draco had finally told him the truth, he had to admit, the last thing he thought he would be hearing is that he wanted Harry to go into the manor with him.

“I know you don’t want to.” Draco said, everything coming out in a rush, looking like he might throw up that meat loaf he had painstakingly cooked. “But I can’t do it alone, and I just need to this, Harry, I need to—”

And Harry, not thinking about what he was agreeing to, not thinking about anything but making Draco feel better, said yes.

Which is all well and good in theory, but it’s quite another thing to stand beside Draco and try to be strong for him when he pushes open heavy oak doors that make you want to puke. Harry could remember every awful moment he had been inside this house—Bellatrix’s breath sour on his face, Ron pounding on the dungeon door, Hermione’s screams, and Dobby afterwards, a chandelier crashing, what a beautiful place to be with friends—stop.

“Jesus.” Draco pushed the door the rest of the way open and then just stood in the middle of the room, in the middle of all the debris and clutter. “They sure didn’t bother with a clean up crew, did they?”

They hadn’t. It looked like they had torn though every inch of this place to try and find whatever darkness might be hiding, ripping off the wall paper and tearing the chandelier down (for the second time, not that they knew it). There were spiderwebs spreading through the hallways like lace curtains, dust and grime gathering on the floor, rats scurrying in the corner.

“My father,” Draco started, and Harry had heard those words so many times he could hear them in his sleep, a sneer on his face and a threat in his tone. “Would have rather died than let this happen.”

Harry snorts. “Oh, come on.” He picks up half a marble bust, the nose shattered off and the rest of it lying on the floor. “This still sort of looks like him, don’t you think?”

“That wasn’t him, you prat.” Draco shoves his shoulder into Harry, but at least now he smiles. “That was some old Greek dude.”

He stands in the middle of the wreckage a moment longer and then kicks out at the chandelier, which doesn’t move it an inch but must have hurt him. “Come on.” He reaches out to Harry, leading him forward. This was his home, after all. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

They head down to the basement, because apparently they had a secret hide away down there, and Draco wants to make sure someone trustworthy witnesses that he’s going to turn everything in, no matter how many galleons it was worth.

“Nope.” Draco slammed the door closed again, wiping the dust off on his pants. “The bastards got everything, Harry, we can—” He paused, noticing that Harry was no longer listening, was no longer even in the same room. “Harry?”

“I always wondered.” Harry said, his words sounding a little strangled. “Why someone would build a house equipped with a dungeon.”

They were back in that same room, and now Harry couldn’t block it out—Ron’s fist into the metal door, the blood trailing down Hermione’s arms, Luna closing Dobby’s eyes for the last time. It was too much, too soon, and he feels his throat close up with the sudden panic of needing to get out, but then there is a hand on his arm, drawing him back.