Thatpartiurquestiondoesn’tourtohimrightaway.Atfirst,he’stoobusyomingtotermswiththeoofapersonthrowingupflowerstoworryaboutwhatkindofflowerstheyare;ter,heperhapsassumes—withouteveronsiouslythinkingaboutit—thatit’srandom,orlinkedinsomeobsurewaytothevitim’spersonality.
“No,”saysHermione.“Theliliesaresignifiant,eithertohimortohisbeloved.That’showitusuallyworks,withHanahaki.It’salwaysaflowerthathasmeaningtooneorbothofthem.”
ThatsendsthegearsinHarry’sheadspinning.He’sbeentryingtoavoidspeutingaboutwhothe“beloved”is.Draodoesn’twanthimtoknow.Harryhimselfdoesn’tthinkhewantstoknow,mostofthetime.Buthean’thelpit.Everylueheuhsisanotherrakinhisfaadeofdisi,andbeforelong,he’swrakinghisbrainsforananswer.
It’ssomeoneDrao’sknownsinehewaseleven,atleast.MaybeafellowHogwartsstudent;that’stheobviousandmostlikelypossibility.Butitouldbesomeonewhodoesn’tattendHogwarts,agmorousfriendDraoseesduringhisfamily’sholidaysinFrane.Itouldevenbeateaher,whih,eurgh.
It’ssomeonewhomDraoassoiateswithlilies,orforwhomlilieshavesomekindofsignifiane.Ofourse,asHermionetellshim,liliesareflowersofdeathandm,usedinfuneralserviesandmemorials…andjustabouteveryoneDraoknowsameofageinwartime.Ifliliesholdmeaningtothebeloved,thatdoesn’tnarrowthingsdownmuhatall.
It’ssomeonewhoseretionshipwithDraohanged,irrevoably,whenDraowassixteen.Maybehe’dhadafallingoutwiththeobjetofhisaffetion.Ormaybethatpersonhadfalleninlovewithsomeoneelse.Thisevent,whateveritwas,triggeredDrao’sdisease.
HarryrunsthroughamentalheklistofalltheSlytherinsandtheoddRavenwDraousedtobeseenwithregurly,butDraohadpushedawayalmosteveryoneduringsixthyear,forentirelyunromantireasons.Anyofthosepeopleould’vebeentheperson.AndDraoisbisexual,whihdoublesthepoolofpotentialandidates.
BroodingonallthebeautifulgirlsandboysthatmighthaveaughtDrao’seyeisatiring,frustratingexerisethatleavesHarrywantingtoshedhisskinlikeanithysweater,orpossiblybreakthings.
Draonoties.Ofoursehedoes.DraoalwaysnotiesthethingsHarrywisheshewouldn’t.
They’vepikedashadyspotintheourtyardtoresearh.Draoiswasindustriouslyasever,butrightnow,readingaboutallthedeathsandmutationsandvariousotherhorriblefatespeoplehaveenduredprovestoomuhforhisnervestohandle.Hedoesn’tspeak,he’dneverompin,butsomethinginhisfaeorhisbodynguagemustbetrayhim.
DraobroahesthesubjetofHarry’sillhumorwithharateristitat.
“Whoshovedabroomstikupyourarsetoday,Potter?”hedrawls.
Before,thatwouldhavebeenthestartofashoutingmath.Now,Harrybrightens.
“Let’sdothat,”hesays.Draoraisesoneeyebrow,andsmirks,andHarryrollshiseyes.“Goflying,Imean.Ihaven’tbeeninages.”
Outoffairnesstotheotherstudents,eighthyearsaren’tallowedonQuiddithteams.Harrymissesitdesperately,butnotasmuhasRondoes,andhe’sertainDrao’srighttherewithhim.Sureenough,Draodoesn’thesitate.
“Seekermath?”Draoasks.
“Ifyou’rethateagertohaveyourarsehandedtoyou,”saysHarry.
“We’llseeaboutthat,Potter.”
Theypartwaystodumptheirbooksandbagsintheirdorms,andretrievetheirbrooms;Harryswingsbythekithenstograbaoupleofsandwihes,whihtheysarfdownontheirwayouttothepith.DraodigsaSnithoutoftheequipmentlokerandtossesitintotheairwhiletheymounttheirbrooms.
Overthehandlesoftheirbrooms,theymeeteahother’seyes,andHarryfeelsasthoughhe’sfinallywokenupafteralongdream.
Withoutaword,theytakeoffintotheskyaftertheSnith,perfetlyinunison.Whenit’stwoSeekersaloneintheair,withnootherpyersorballstoworryaboutorthedinofarowdtodistrat—andwhentheSeekersarealmostevenlymathed,thewayHarryandDraoare—thegametransformsintoanadrenaline-pounding,blood-rushing,heart-raingwhirlwindofaduel.
“Bestoutoffive?”Draoalls,andHarrygivestheaffirmative,buttheyeahaththeSnithsoquiklythegamestrethesintonine,fifteenrounds.Theyloseount.herofthemhastopretendatourtesyorsportsmanship;thisispureompetition,andfromthemomenttheytakeoffthere’snevermorethanayardorsoofspaebetweenthem.IfHarrytriestoshakeDraooff,Draomatheshiseveryloopanddiveandrollwithaareless,manigrin.IfDraotriestoathHarryoffguardwithdizzying,breaknekpsaroundthestadium—flyingsolowtheynearlytearseatsrightoutofthestandsorsohighHarryhastroubleathinghisbreath—Harryantiipateshiseverymoveandfollowswithoutsomuhasamomentofhesitation.HalfthetimetheyfettheSnithisthereuntiloneofthemseesitandshouts;thenit’sano-holds-barredaerialsprintforthegoal,weavingoverandunderoneanother,elbowingeahothershamelesslyastheygetloserandlosertotheSnith.Morethanone,HarryorDraoreahoutandsnaththeother’swristbyaident(Draoimsit’sanaidenteverytime,atleast),andthesnithesapesthemboth.herofthemnotieswhentheskygrowsdarkwithforbiddinggreyplumesofloud.
Whentherainstarts,HarryputstheSnithawayandrejoinsDraointheair,andtheypebetsonwhihofthemanpulloffthebestfeintsorother,inreasinglygerousandfoolhardymaneuvers,likeagameofhikendesignedtogiveMadamHoohaheartattak.Lukily,nooneisaround
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