“Whatwasthat?”HestaredatthefirepebeforehiseyeswanderedovertoDrao.“Didyoujust—Wasthatyou?”

Draoswallowedaroundthelumpinhisthroat.Shit.

“Um…Itoldyou,mymagihasbeenabitoff,”hemuttered,mely.

“ButyoutookthePepperuppotion.You’refinenow.”

“Notompletely,itseems.”HelearedhisthroatwhenPottergavehimaseptiallook.“Shallwego?”

“Sure,”Pottermurmured,stilleyeinghimsuspiiously.“I’llgofirst.Justsayyouwanttogotomyft,I’llletthewardsdown.”

Draonodded,stiffly,andwathedPottervanishinthegreenfmes.Hetookafewdeepbreathsbeforehedidthesame.

ThefirstthinghenotiedwhenhesteppedintoPotter’slivingroomwashowemptyitlooked.Theessentialswerethere,asofa,ashelf…buttherewasnotraeofPotter.Nobodyouldhaveguessedhewastheonelivinghere.AsDraoponderedthat,hiseyesfellonthetableinthemiddleoftheroom;heimmediatelyfroze.

“But…youalreadymadedinner.”

“Idid.”

“Thatwasalittlepresumptuous,don’tyouthink?”

“You’rehere,aren’tyou?”

DraodrankinPotter’ssmile.Itwasteasing,butalso…somethingelse.Itmadehimwanttosmakhim…andthensnoghimsenseless.Ohboy.Thiseveningwasalreadydoomed.

“I’monlyherebeauseyoupratiallybeggedme,”Draodrawled.

“Youansaywhatyouwant,Drao,Iknowyoulikespendingtimewithme.”

Therewassomethingsodisarmingaboutthatomment,Draomomentarilylosthistrainofthought.IfPotternotied,hedidn’tletitshow.Heseemedoratedashelightedafewandles.dles!Asifthiswassupposedtoberomanti.

“bsp;youopenthewine?”heasked,lookingoverhisshoulder.

“Gdly.Youan’tbetrustedwithanimportanttasklikethat,”Draoreplied,walkingovertothetable.Hereahedforthebottle,sanningthebel,andfurrowedhisbrows.Itatuallywasn’tabadone.Ontheontrary.ItwasoneofDrao’sfavourites.

“Isitnottherightone?”PotteraskedwhenhesawDraofrowningatthebottle.

“It’lldo,”Draoshrugged.

“You’resuhanarse,”Pottersniggered.

Draopeekedsidewaysathim,hissalpprikling.HadPotterseriouslyspentnearly200GalleonsjusttopleaseDrao?Justafewdaysago,hehadsaiditwasinsanetospendthatmuhmoneyonwine.WarmthspreadthroughDrao’sbody,whihwashighlyunwelome.Shakinghishead,hepulledouthiswandandpointeditatthebottle.HeeyedtherestofthetableandwassurprisedtofindthatPotterhadatuallymanagedtoputtogetheraratherdeentlookingmeal.Hewasn’ttookeenonpotroast,butitlookedbetterthanhehadexpetedfromPotter.

“Ididn’tknowyouanook,”hemurmuredashesatdown.

“Yeah,well,somekidslearnhowtopyaninstrument,Ilearnedhowtoook,”Pottersaid,takinghisownseat.

“Yourfamilytaughtyouhowtoook?HowveryMuggleofthem.”

“TheywereMuggles,”PotterpointedoutandDraonotiedtherewasnohumourleftinhiseyes.“Andtheydidn’treallyteahme.IlearnedasIwent.IonlyknewIwasmakingprogresswhentheydidn’tyellatme.”

Draoblinked.“Youmakeitsoundlikethatwasaommonourrene.”

“Itwas,”Pottershrugged.

“But…”Draoshookhishead.“Soyouookedforthem?”

“Yeah,”Pottermuttered,staringathispte.“Sometimestheyletmehavetheleftovers.Whihwasn’tthatoften,sinemyousindevouredanythingremotelyedible.”

Draoouldn’tbelievewhathewashearing.ItsousoundedlikePotter’shildhoodhadn’tbeennearlyashappyasDraohadthought.Ofoursehehadheardrumoursovertheyears,espeiallyatHogwarts,buthehadalwaysthoughtpeoplewereexaggeratingtomaketherisingoftheSaviourevenmoreglorious.

“Areyoutellingme…”Heswallowed,fistinghishandintothetableloth.“Areyoutellingmetheystarvedyou?”

Potterbithislip.Helookedunomfortable.“Iwouldn’tsay‘starved’.They…”Hesighed.“Myauntgavemeenough…to…”

Towhat?Survive?Thiswaseous!Drao’svisionblurredashisstomahtwistedpainfully.Suddenly,somanylittlethingshehadn’tponderedonwhentheyhadbeenatHogwartsmadesomuhsenseinlightofthatrevetion.

Draohadalwaysbeenskinnyhimselfandheouldbasiallyeatwhathewantedwithoutgaininganyweight,sohehadn’tthoughtanythingofPotter’sslimfigure.Butnowthathethoughtaboutit,hehadlookeduhilyskinnyintheirfirstyear.DraorememberedhisdisgustwhenhehadwathedPotterdevourhisfoodintheGreatHall.Hehadsimplythoughtthepratkedpropermanners.Butnow…NowonderPotterhadbeensofixatedonfood.Draoballedhishandsintofistsaroundhisutlery.ThosedamnedMuggleshadstarvedhim.

“Whatthe—”Potterletoutayellinsurpriseasthewinebottleburstintoathousandpiees.Therewasredwineeverywhere.Draowasstillfloodedwithanger,barelynotiingthatPotterwastalkingtohim.

“Didyoujust—Wasthatyou?Again?”

Draodidn’tanswer,tryingnottobreakanythingelseinhisrage.Potterseemedtonotiehowtensehewas,movingdeliberatelyslowashereahedforhiswand.Withaquikflik,theshardsandthespilledwineweregone.

“There’sstillwineonyourlothes,”Pottersaidquietly.Hisfaewasunreadable,buttherewassomethingaboutthewayhewaslookingatDraothatgavetheimpressionhewasexperieningafloodofemotions.

“Whatever,”Draomuttered.Beforeheouldgrabhiswand,Potterspokeagain.

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