分卷阅读30（2 / 2）

“You’re such an arse,” Potter sniggered.

Draco peeked sideways at him, his scalp prickling. Had Potter seriously spent nearly 200 Galleons just to please Draco? Just a few days ago, he had said it was insane to spend that much money on wine. Warmth spread through Draco’s body, which was highly unwelcome. Shaking his head, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the bottle. He eyed the rest of the table and was surprised to find that Potter had actually managed to put together a rather decent looking meal. He wasn’t too keen on pot roast, but it looked better than he had expected from Potter.

“I didn’t know you can cook,” he murmured as he sat down.

“Yeah, well, some kids learn how to play an instrument, I learned how to cook,” Potter said, taking his own seat.

“Your family taught you how to cook? How very Muggle of them.”

“They were Muggles,” Potter pointed out and Draco noticed there was no humour left in his eyes. “And they didn’t really teach me. I learned as I went. I only knew I was making progress when they didn’t yell at me.”

Draco blinked. “You make it sound like that was a common occurrence.”

“It was,” Potter shrugged.

“But…” Draco shook his head. “So you cooked for them?”

“Yeah,” Potter muttered, staring at his plate. “Sometimes they let me have the leftovers. Which wasn’t that often, since my cousin devoured anything remotely edible.”

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It sounded…it sounded like Potter’s childhood hadn’t been nearly as happy as Draco had thought. Of course he had heard rumours over the years, especially at Hogwarts, but he had always thought people were exaggerating to make the rising of the Saviour even more glorious.

“Are you telling me…” He swallowed, fisting his hand into the tablecloth. “Are you telling me they starved you?”

Potter bit his lip. He looked uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t say ‘starved’. They…” He sighed. “My aunt gave me enough…to…”

To what? Survive? This was outrageous! Draco’s vision blurred as his stomach twisted painfully. Suddenly, so many little things he hadn’t pondered on when they had been at Hogwarts made so much sense in light of that revelation.

Draco had always been skinny himself and he could basically eat what he wanted without gaining any weight, so he hadn’t thought anything of Potter’s slim figure. But now that he thought about it, he had looked unhealthily skinny in their first year. Draco remembered his disgust when he had watched Potter devour his food in the Great Hall. He had simply thought the prat lacked proper manners. But now…No wonder Potter had been so fixated on food. Draco balled his hands into fists around his cutlery. Those damned Muggles had starved him.

“What the—” Potter let out a yell in surprise as the wine bottle burst into a thousand pieces. There was red wine everywhere. Draco was still flooded with anger, barely noticing that Potter was talking to him.

“Did you just—Was that you? Again?”

Draco didn’t answer, trying not to break anything else in his rage. Potter seemed to notice how tense he was, moving deliberately slow as he reached for his wand. With a quick flick, the shards and the spilled wine were gone.

“There’s still wine on your clothes,” Potter said quietly. His face was unreadable, but there was something about the way he was looking at Draco that gave the impression he was experiencing a flood of emotions.

“Whatever,” Draco muttered. Before he could grab his wand, Potter spoke again.