分卷阅读43（2 / 2）

“Because it’s all bollocks!”

“Draco, I’m telling you, this has nothing—”

“What, then?”

Potter hesitated, fumbling with the hem of his jumper. “It’s not that easy for me to say,” he mumbled.

“Because it’s not real.”

“What?”

“You’re just trying to make something up, so I’ll sleep with you.”

Potter’s eyes widened, his face twisting in horror. “You really think I’d be capable of that?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Draco yelled. “I can’t trust you!”

“You know what, if you really think I’m that kind of person, I can’t trust you either.”

“Great, it’s finally settled then,” Draco hissed. “Oh, and by the way, I’m keeping your cheque, for the children. But you and I, we’re done!” He caught one last glimpse of Potter before he stepped into the fireplace again and immediately wished he hadn’t. It made his heart squeeze painfully to see so much hurt in his eyes, but there was no other way. Potter had hurt him too much. There was no excuse in the world that would ever make up for it.

Wednesday, 23 July 2003

The Lovegood’s home was such a peculiar place. Draco was surprised when he found out Luna still lived with her father. On the other hand, it made sense, since they were running the Quibbler together now.

When Luna had invited him over for tea, he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, after only five minutes of sitting down with her in her room, it was pretty clear she had an agenda.

“I’m not talking to Potter,” he said, tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb. “There’s nothing you can say that will—”

“Draco,” Luna said with a sigh. “He’s suffering.”

“So? I’m suffering, too.”

“And have you ever thought about why that is?”

“What?”