分卷阅读45（1 / 2）

“Not this time,” Draco said, holding him on this dingy kitchen floor, hoping he is telling the truth. “It’s over.”

“I’ve thought that so many times.” Harry was breaking underneath his hands, his composure crumbling, and for the first time since Harry had known him, he looked tired, tired and young and small. “So many times, I think it’s done, that I’ve won, that we can all rest and be safe and no one has to hurt anymore, but then I turn the corner and there’s just another thing to fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Then don’t.” Draco was almost in tears. “Next time, don’t fight. Let someone else do it, anyone else, this isn’t your job anymore, Harry!”

“Then who’s going to?” His breathing was ragged, his eyes blurred with tears. “It’s only ever been me. Me and this fight, it’s all I’ve ever known, and if it’s gone—if it’s really, really gone Draco, for good—what am I then?” He spits the next word out. “Nothing. You can’t be a hero when there are no bad guys to fight.”

“You don’t have to be anything. You don’t have to be a hero. You just have to be Harry.” Draco had told him this before, had spent nights sitting with his back to the head board and Harry’s head in his lap, trying to convince him that it was okay to take this time to find himself, that it was alright if he spent the rest of his life doing nothing but trying to make himself happy, really, after all he had given and all he had lost. “That’s enough for me.”

Why can’t it be enough for you, he thinks, but then Harry is heaving in a great shuddering breath and shaking out his hair, straightening back up with a watery smile. “This is stupid,” he says, waving his hands around at the mess around them, perhaps talking about his break down or maybe just talking about his life in general. “I’m just tired.”

“Then let’s go to bed.” Draco stands up and towels fall down around him as he moves, holding out a hand to Harry.

Harry stares up at him. “But you said—the towels?”

“Bed, Harry.” He waves his hand at him again, insistent. “Things will look better in the morning.”

Draco keeps looking for a sign that another break down might be on the way, but for all intents and purposes, it was like Harry doesn’t remember what he had said on the night of the napkins. Actually, he seems to go out of his way to avoid it, throwing himself into the wedding planning with a ferocity to rival Mrs. Weasley. It’s intense enough that even Luna notices.

“It is very nice of him to do this. He always was such a nice friend.” She is watching Harry help Ginny’s measurements with a determined look on his face, laughing when she demands him to recheck it all for a third time, just in case. “But I didn’t ever think that he was that into parties.”

“To be fair, it isn’t a party.” If Draco was going to confide in anybody about the conversation, it would be Luna, but he didn’t feel right about it. “It’s a wedding.”

“Is there much difference?” Luna didn’t seem to be that bothered by the idea of the impending date, which was only weeks away, seeing as they both wanted it done before she headed back to Hogwarts in the fall for a repeat of her final year. Technically, she had graduated, but McGonagall had declared the option for repeat years available for anyone who thought that the last year or two of their education was unsatisfactory for their needs. Unlike Ginny, who was becoming more frantic with each day, Luna simply stated what she wanted and then stuck with it, and Ginny inevitably agreed. “The clean up for both is extremely messy.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it, because really, sometimes conversations with her took more energy than he knew what to do with.

“Oi, Draco!” Ginny waved him over, and he came, dreading the new task that he and Hermione would be assigned with. Draco’s sort of a bridesmaid, though he’s hoping that Luna doesn’t demand that he wears a dress. “What do you think of the new color scheme? Luna picked it.”

It was blue and pink, both in terribly garish shades, and both would clash terribly with Ginny’s hair. Across the room from them, Fleur was looking very cross, because she had been trying to pawn off some of the previously ruined and now repaired decorations that would have been used at the end of her own wedding reception, had it not been interrupted by the death eater take over of the ministry, and Luna had said that she would never have something so shiny at her own wedding, that it would attract too many magical bugs that no one in the room had heard of before.

“Don’t worry.” He could feel a head ache swelling up behind his temples. Now that his potions were winding down, he was desperately in need of a project, but he thinks he could have found an easier one. “I’ll talk to her.”

They get home late, after the color scheme had made its final change to colors that were less painful to the eyes, after they had convinced Luna to make an appointment to be fitted for an actual wedding dress, and after Ginny had picked a cake and charged Draco with the task of going to order it. And God help you if there’s a single frosted rose out of place, she had said, which was much less frightening than he might have found it a few months ago but still worrisome.

“Merlin, can you believe all that?” Harry was yanking his jumper up over his head while walking at the same time, and he stumbled over the kitchen chair that he had left pushed out in the entrance that morning, then walking on like he hadn’t. “Bloody hell, there’s so much, and handwritten invitations, lord, I’ll be stuffing all those into envelopes for hours while you write them, won’t I?” His head pops into sight again and he smiles. “Good thing I like you so much.”