“He’sresearhingHanahakiDisease.He’sdonethebasireadingbutnowhe’sexpandinghissearh,lookingintootherasesofphysialdeteriorationlinkedtoawizard’sownmagiturningonhim,andhewantedtoknowifI’dreadanythingworthhistime.Isuggestedafewtitles.”

Hermione’stoneislightbuthereyeswathHarryshrewdly.

“Ishelookingforaure?”heasks.Hetakeshistimerummagingthroughhisbag,pullingoutsomeparhmentandaquillandhisbooksandthenjuststandingtherefiddlingwiththestrapslikeatwit.

“Hedidn’tsayso,butIthinkhemustbe,”shesays.Well,that’ssomething;atleastthegit’snotjustgoingtorolloveranddie.

“Right.Anyway,”Harrysays,“Ifotsomething.Wathmythings,willyou?”

Hedoesn’tentirelyknowwhathe’sdoingasheleavesHermionesittingthere.Helearsthelibrary’sdoorsandfindshimselfbreakingintoarunassoonashe’soutinthehalls,raingdowntheroutetothedungeons,skiddingaroundaorner—

HealmostollideswithDrao,wholeansagainstthewallwithhisbaktoHarry,asprayoflilypetalsathisfeetandhishandsqueezinghisthroatasheraggedlypantsforbreath.

“Er,”Harrysays.“Alrightthere,Malfoy?”

“Fine,Potter,”Draosaystonelessly,wipingpink-tingedspittleoffhislipswiththatpretentiousmonogrammedhandkerhiefandtryingtokeephisfaeturnedawayfromHarry’s.

“Why,er,whyareyoubleeding,aren’ttheyjustflowers—”Harrystarts.DraosnortsandshootshimthatdisdainfullookHarryknowsalltoowell,andhefeelsthefamiliarhatredrearingupinhishest.

“Potter,”hesays,somehowturningHarry’sownnameintoaonwithoutevenhavingtostraightenup.“Thereareliliesbloominginsidemylungs.Therearerootsedaroundmyheartandleavesrattlinginsidemyribageandbrokenstemsliningmythroatandseedsinmybloodstream.IantastethepetalseverytimeIswallow.Thesentfollowsmeintomydreams.paredtothat,isalittlebitofinternalbleedingreallysoshoking?”

HarrytearshisgazeawayfromDrao’slips,whiharedryandraked,andlooksathiseyes,whihareworse,hauntedanddesperate,atotalbetrayalofhisoollypatronizingtone.

“Theonlyshokingthingaboutthisisthatyou’reapableoflovinganythingotherthanyourself,”Harrysays,moreinstintthananger.

Draoflinhes,buthereoversfast.Hepuffsup,readywitharetortHarryanalmostpreditword-for-word;theylokeyes,gring,feedingoneahother’sfury.Itflowsbakandforthbetweenthemlikealivingthing.OneofHarry’shandslenhesonhiswand;Drao’slipurlsintoasneerthatsendsariffoftriumphthroughHarry.Draowillsaysomethingawful,andHarrywillshoutathim,andallwillberightintheworld.

Exept.ExeptsomethingstopsDrao.Hesagsbakagainstthewallbeforethetensionanboilover,breakingeyeontat.Ahelplesslittleoughesapeshislips,followedbyastreamofthem.HarrygetstoseeuplosehowDrao’shestheaves,andhowhestrugglestodrawbreathashislungsexpelthelilies—sometimesonlythepetals,likeshredsofwhitesilk,andsometimesentireflowerheads,thesoftfimentsintheirentersfluttering.

Draogagsaroundthembuthean’tstopoughing,either,andHarryseeshissilver-greyeyeswellupwithpainedtearsbeforeheshutsthemandturnsaway.AfshofpanihitsHarry,suddenly;forallheknows,Draooulddropdeadanyseond.Harrygrabsontohim,supphimwithahandonhisshoulderandanotheronefirmonthenapeofhisnek,andDraoshuddersandgasps.Afterfartoolong,theflowersstopoming;heoughsafewmoretimes,weakly,sprayingdropsofblood.

Assoonashe’sable,heshakesHarryoff,roughly.

“Ifyou’llexuseme,”hesnaps,“I’dliketospendmyfinaldaysdoingsomethingmorepleasantthangettingmanhandledbyaspeyGryffindorbrute.”

“Prat,”Harrysays,automatially,andthenhefinishesproessingthewords.“Days?”

“Maybe.Idon’tknow.ButIhaven’tgotlong,”Draosays.“What’swrong,Potter?NotgotsikofpyingSavior?Strainingthattinybrainofyoursforawaytobetheheroonemoretime?”

“Farfromit.Thisisthebestthingthat’shappenedatHogwartsinyears,”Harrysays,whihofourseisabsurd,heflewthroughFiendfyretosavethisboy,ofoursehedoesn’twanthimdead—andsomehowhe’sstillgoing.“IfIknewwhoitwas,I’dshaketheirhand.”

Draosmiles,then,butit’sanawfulsmile;itlookslikeithurtsmorethantheoughingdid.Harryopenshismouthtoapologize,totakeitbak—he’sfinallygonetoofar,hasn’the—butDraosays,“Notevenyouanhaveeverythingyouwant,”andwalksawaywithoutabakwardgne.

Harrystaresathisbakashedisappearsaroundaornerandwondershow,asalwayshappenswithDrao,everythingwentoutofhisontrolsofast.

Draoskipsdinnerthatevening.

Harry’seyessantheSlytherintableoverandover,searhingforhim,buthalfwaythroughdinnerhehasnohoiebuttoonludeDrao’snotoming.It’sonlythesightofPansy,spooningsadontoherpteandseemingnomoreunhappythanusual,thatsetshimatease.

Hermionenudgeshim.“Lookingforsomeone?”sheasks,browsraised.

Heshakeshisheadanddropshiseyestohispte.Hean’texatlytellherthat,afterseeingDraohakhisinsidesoutwhileHarrystoodthereuselessly,thesightofDraostillbreathingwouldhavebeenarelief.

“Well,”saysHermione,“ifyouwerelookingforsomeone,I’dadviseyoutohekthehospitalwing.”

Harrylooksaroundather,amazed,butshe’sengrossedinabookshe’sproppedopeninthespotwhereherpteshouldbe;thepteisinherp.Ron’stoobusyarguingwithSeamusandDeantonoti

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