分卷阅读32（2 / 2）

Draco

He’s happy.

For a moment, Draco can’t remember why, only that he had gotten the best night’s sleep that he had had in ages and there was no panic lurking in the back of throat, only the sun streaming in through the open curtains and sending yellow light scattering over his skin. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes like he’s smoothing wrinkles in an old shirt, and it’s only when he stretches out an arm to where Harry would normally be (Draco is always the first one awake) and touches nothing but the fraying edges of the worn out sheets that he remembers—about the ball, Harry’s hand in his as the cameras flashed, the look on Harry’s face as he reached out to accept the award that he thinks he only got because he was lucky enough to survive, that dance with Harry’s hands on him and his voice whispering in Draco’s ear, promising things that he knew better than to believe were going to come true.

There’s a knot forming in his stomach at the empty space that was supposed to hold Harry, but he swallows it down, forces himself to calm the anxiety that is beating in time with his pulse. He woke up early, he thinks, pushing away the covers and searching around for an old jumper to yank down over his arms. That’s all this is. Nothing more.

People get up early all the time, but not Harry, and even though that’s a little worrying, Draco is still happy as he gets a shower and cleans up the stray remnants of last night (a shoe here, a stray tie hanging over the back of the chair, a stain from where Harry spilled his cologne) before heading downstairs, which is when he hears Harry yelling and Dean trying to talk over him as he apologizes, which is when Draco starts to realize that there might be a reason Harry wasn’t in bed and that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t that good of a day after all.

“What’s the matter?” There’s a paper spread out over the kitchen table and Harry leaning back against the counter, red in the face. Dean throws an exasperated look Draco’s way, and instead of explaining, he shoves a paper into his chest and waits for him to read it.

“Oh.” Draco’s voice is small and stunned, and it takes a great deal of effort for him to push the pages away and pretend what he saw didn’t matter. “Well…” He looks at Harry, trying to gauge how he is supposed to react to this, but Harry looks the other way. “At least we look good. Got my best angle.”

Witch Weekly, which was a subsidy of the Daily Prophet, had apparently sent their own reporter to get the inside scoop of the ministry event last night, and they apparently decided to get the biggest scoop of a story they could and tell the whole wizarding world why the Great Harry Potter broke up with the beautiful war hero known as Ginny Weasley, aka, the fact that he doesn’t like witches at all. The entire cover was just a collage of the two of them, all these different pictures smashed together, and even Draco had to admit that it looked convincing in a way that was more than a little embarrassing. There’s the two of them walking in, the two of them sitting at a table holding hands, and the worst, biggest picture: the two of them on the dance floor, wrapped up in each other with no thought as to who was watching.

It was clear now how big of a mistake that was.

“I thought that with you in charge the Prophet would leave me alone.” Harry’s voice was dripping acid, and Draco calmed the panic squirming up in his stomach with the thought that it was not the idea that people thinks he is with Draco that had upset Harry, but rather the fact that people would consider his non-existent relationship with Draco was something newsworthy. “That you would report real stuff.”

“The Prophet does report real stuff, mate.” Dean turned the paper around again, and then winced as the tiny, animated picture of Harry leaned in and kissed Draco on the cheek when he came up to talk to Draco and Hermione. That one was pretty hard to argue with, too. “This isn’t the Prophet. This is a glorified gossip column.”

“A very popular gossip column,” Draco said faintly, sinking into the chair and reading all that they reported on last night’s event. He had been featured in this magazine before, but never like this. “With a ton of readers who now think we’re together.”

“You’re telling me you’re not?” Dean asked, which made things go from angry to awkward in less than a heartbeat. Harry just glowered at him, and Draco clawed at the dark mark hiding under his sleeve, wishing more than ever that he could just wash it away once and for all, even if he has to burn it away. Dean just looks from one to the other and raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. Whatever. None of my business. But listen, Harry. I can’t stop them. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Can’t you make them stop?” Harry looked tired, which was just so unfair, that he could have a night where he was allowed to be happy and have it turn into this, another reminder about how nothing in his life really belongs to him. “Tell them I’m off limits, or something?”

“You kidding?” Dean grins, and he runs a hand through his hair, sheepish but still just as arrogant as he was back in school. “I can’t do that Harry. You’re a gold mine. Those of us with a vault full of galleons have to make a living somehow, you know.”

Draco wants to jump in, demand that he stop and pull the story before the papers go out, tell him that Harry had given enough and it would have been nice if people could go as far to keep their nose out of his business as a thank you, but it’s not his friend and therefore not his place, so he stays silent.

“You think you would have gotten their facts right.” Harry pushes himself off the counter and heads down the hallway to let Dean out, Draco trailing faintly behind him. “I’m bi, not gay.”

“Right.” The corner of Dean’s mouth twitches up again, and for the first time, he looks a little sorry. “I’ll have a full retraction printed by tomorrow morning. Personal apology and all.”

Harry claps him on the shoulder, and Dean leaves, which even though Draco was dying for that to happen, it was even worse when they were left alone.