“youalwaysomeforthepanakes,”draoreplies,gettinghisforkandreahingoverthetabletowardstheservingpte.hisnosesrunhesupatthesightofthepuddleofsyruponharry’spte.

“yes,idid.thanksforasking.”

surprisepaintsdrao’sfae,anditmakeshimlooki,eyeswide

it’sworrisomehowthewordsareoutbeforeheanstopthem.“bsp;iomewithyou?”

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“don’tbesopolitearoundme.it’sdisgusting.”

“well?sitdown.idon’tthinkyouameherejusttowathmeeat.”

justlikethat,anyirritationthathemighthavefeltgiveswaytoaertainkindofwonderatseeingdraomalfoyughsounguardedly.harryrealizeshe’sstaring.

“yeah.imighttakeawalkinthegardentoday,”draosays,smilingslightlyasheturnstolookatthebuddingflowers.

harryignoresthat.“well,ifitmakesyoufeelbetter,i’malsoheretoaskhowyou’redoing.”

“whatthehellfor?”

nthem.

harryshovespanakesinhismouth.he’slearnedthatdraotriestobediffiultonpurpose,andthebestwaytodealwithhimwhenhe’sbeingaslimysodistoignorethathe’sbeingaslimysod.hethinksheshouldbeawardedforhisdisoveryandanonizedforhispatiene.“didyouhaveagoodfukingsleep?”

andthendraoughs.

harryswallowsthepanakesdown,hard.“itshows.”

“didyouhaveagoodsleep?”

harrydoesastold.“no,iameforthepanakes.”hetransferstwopanakesonhispte(afterthreeweeksofeatinginthemanor,he’smanagedtodivesthimselfofhisbashfulnesswiththefood),soopsasmuhsliesofbananaasheanwithhisfork,andsprinklesthatontopalongwiththerushedashews.heunstopsthebottleofmaplesyrup.