分卷阅读23（2 / 2）

Potter frowns at him as he enters, obviously taking in the scene and trying to understand what’s happening. He glances at how Draco’s holding his wrist that’s covered by the sleeve of his robes. “What’s wrong?”

And Draco had expected it to feel like tattling, or like giving up, but when he says it, he finds that he’s just really, really relieved to finally be able to share anything with this man.

“I’ve been receiving letters.”

“Oh?” Potter asks curiously, taking off his robes and throwing it on his bed without preamble, as if he lives here. Draco likes it.

Potter peers at the letters, but they’re all folded, and so Draco hands him the nearest one, the very first one.

The way Potter’s face darkens at the message warms him from the inside. It’s fucked up, but he likes knowing that he can affect Potter like this.

Potter unfolds another letter, then another, then another, until he’s gone through all of them, and he crushes the last one in his fist with his lips curled in distaste. He throws it in the garbage bin, and glares at the remaining letters on the bed. “How long has this been going on?” he demands.

Draco starts to gather the letters into a neat pile. “A week, maybe more?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Potter’s angry, and Draco wants to kiss his frown away.

It’s hard when Potter’s sweet enough to get angry for him. Draco closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he does something stupid like confess.

When he opens his eyes, he looks straight at Harry’s and says, “I’m telling you now.”

And he knows, with the way Potter’s tense shoulders slowly relax and the furrow in his eyebrows ease, that Potter understands the trust and humility that he’s giving in that single act of telling.

“Give that to me,” Potter mutters instead and snatches the pile of letters from Draco’s hand. He turns back to his robes on the other bed, and shoves the letters inside one of its pockets with a grumble. “I’m giving these to Professor McGonagall. Have you read all of them?”

“Yes.”

“Stop reading them.” Potter sighs, fingers pressing on his temple. “Why do you even keep on opening them?”

Draco smiles slightly at the frustrated figure Potter’s back makes. “Thought it might convince me.”

“To what?”

“To leave you alone.”

Potter whips his head back to look at him, stunned and hurt at his admission. “Why would you—”