分卷阅读12（2 / 2）

He’s drunk.

Like, actually drunk, drunker than Draco had ever seen him, and Draco doesn’t really know what to do with that, because the only person he’s ever seen get trashed was Pansy off of peach schnapps, and that was really only the one time.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” He’s staring down at him, sprawled out on the hallways floor. His hair is a mess, and the smell of what he’d been drinking was clinging to him, like he’d dumped the contents of the whole bar all over him. He’s also got his coat half on and half off, like he couldn’t quite remember how to do it.

“Went to a bar.” Harry titled his head and smiled at him, like there was nothing strange about this. Like they always have drunken conversations on the hallway floor after midnight. “Had a few drinks.”

“How many is a few?” If Draco was worried that he was nagging, he shouldn’t have. Harry just smiles again, and then he laughs, and then he stares over at the umbrella stand, which was also tipped over and on the floor, umbrellas spread out all around it.

(He seriously doesn’t get why they have it there. It’s a nuisance. Neither of them even use umbrellas. Draco uses a spell to keep dry, and Harry—well, Harry can’t be bothered with any of it, so he sort of just walks through the rain and lets Hermione dry him off.)

“Only a few.” Harry shrugs. “I only fell because of that thing.”

It’s only then that Draco notices the blood on the inside of his arm, seeping from his shoulder on down. And then he sighs, because really, nothing good ever happens when Harry comes home late.

“Come on,” He holds his hands out to him, but Harry just takes them and hangs on, making no move to get up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Stupid,” Draco murmurs. Harry’s shirt is unbuttoned and halfway off, and Draco has one hand poking at the edges of the wound to see how deep it goes and the other laying on the inside of his arm. He’s worried that he might be hurting him, but either Harry has an unhealthily high pain tolerance or the alcohol is keeping him from feeling it. “What made you think it was a good idea to apparate?”

“Wanted to get home to you.” He was sobering up and maybe starting to feel everything a little bit more. Draco had forced him choke down a cup full of coffee before they did anything else, still on the floor of the hallway, because he didn’t think he could handle this version of Harry without any warning. “Knew you would be worried about me. It was faster. Fastest. Whatever.”

“Yeah, well.” Draco doesn’t know what to say to that, because it seems to be implying that they have a sort of relationship they don’t, the kind where they keep tabs on each other and shape their schedules around each other, and in general just be better friends than they really were. It wasn’t fair, to be confronted with this when he knew that Harry didn’t mean it. “I’d rather be worrying than have you hurt yourself.”

He dibs a wash rag into the water basin. Draco has to clean Harry’s whole arm to see where the cut starts, and he’s starting to think it might have been easier to say the hell with it and dump dittany all over him, just to get it over with, because being this close to him is infuriating. He tries not to think about it, and watches the water instead, watching how the water runs pink after it hits his skin.

“Ron did this once.” The thought seems to calm Harry, and he looks down at his shoulder with something like curiosity. He even makes a move to touch it, so Draco forces his hand back down to his side. “Was a lot worse though.”

“What’d you do?”

“Hermione dumped some potion on it. Kept his arm in a sling for a while.” Harry was still staring at his arm, but he was also looking at something else, something far away that only he could see. Draco’s noticed that that happens sometimes. “But we just kept on hunting.”

Draco does not need to ask what they were hunting. The whole world knows what the three of them were off doing. “Bet he’s got a wicked scar.”

“Yeah.” The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches in an attempt of a smile, but he’s also still looking at that other place, the faraway place. “Way cooler than mine.”