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harry

“yeah.”geesaid,smiling,andtherewasfivenessinthatsylble,enoughsothatwhenhesankdowntositontheurb,draothoughtitwassafetoomeandsitbesidehim.“youreallywereaprat.”

hewakestosreams.

“i’vepunhedyoubefore.”gee’smouthtwithedintoasmileashesaidit,anddraohadanunomfortablefshofhimurledontheground,tryingtoprotethimself,geeandharry’sfistsflying.ithadhurtquitealot.

“areyouhavingapaniattak?”astupidquestion,beausehewas,andevenstupiderbeauseeventhoughhermionewasfthemalltoreadupontheirpartiurtraumas,knowingthelingoandknowinghowtohelparen’tthesamethings.

“ideservedit.”

“trustme,”hesays,thinkingofgoingbak,ofgettingthefirstaidsuppliesreadyandstaringfromtheloktothedoorandbakagain,fhimselftostayawakeuntilharryomeshome.“i’mdoingmybest.”

(lie.it’seasiertofeelowhenthey’retenfeetapart,butbakthere,withthetensionrunninghighandnoonemovingtostopit,hewasso,sodead.)

chapter22

geesighed,floppedbakontothesidewalksohewaslyingftonhisbak.“trytellingthattoharry.”

himheshouldletitgo.

foramoment,harryan’tfigureoutwheretheyareomingfrom.hekn

“youwouldn’thave.”

draohokedonaugh,feelingbetterthanhehadallnight.“imeantit,though.aboutnotthinkinganythingaboutyounotfighting.”hewaswadingbakintogerousterritory,beauseapparentlydraodoesn’thaveanyselfpreservationskills.“you’vedoneenough.”

geedoesn’tanswer,justwipeshismouthwiththebakofhishandandstoodup.“iwasgoingtokikyourass.”

itdoesn’ttakelongtofindgee,whodidn’tgetveryfar.hehadonlyturnedtheorner,andnowhewashunhedoverbehastreetlight,handsonhisknees.helookedlikehewasabouttobesik.