Chapter 14 The Eve Before Dawn
Harry placed his hands over Draco's, gripping its sides but choosing not to pull it down, just to hold it in that loose position.
"Draco, I'm looking forward to the day I can go with you to see the London Coliseum outside Hogwarts."
The ends of Draco's fingers that were being held trembled slightly, a feeling that felt like itching and tingling, but when it reached his brain, it was just like the skin at the ends of his fingers swelling for a second.
Even before the brain receives it, the tactile sensation, like being trapped in a glass bottle, has already left its mark on the muscles and skin of the arm, leaving only the coolness at the ends of the fingertips to remind the owner that it once existed.
Harry was shrouded in darkness and could not see Draco's expression, but this subtle darkness made him want to tell him everything.
"Just like you in my dreams, proud, confident, and uninhibited. Not like you are now, caught up in the power struggle, forced to be indifferent and lonely."
The Draco Malfoy that Harry knew was arrogant, domineering, ambitious, and self-conceited, like a spoiled and willful peacock.
He couldn't imagine Draco being restrained, forced to immerse himself in the fear of conspiracy, and having to pretend that he didn't care.
So when he saw Draco looking back at the Three Broomsticks, with that fleeting, deep, painful look, Harry decided he had to chase him.
"Harry..."
Draco looked at Harry, who half bent over and lowered his head to accommodate him in order to relieve the pressure on his arms. His brows relaxed, his pink lips slightly protruded, and the uncontrollable joy flowed to the corners of his mouth.
Harry looked up at Draco's arm. The hair covering his forehead slid to the sides, revealing the iconic lightning.
Draco was stunned for a moment. The thick black fog came again, and the smell of rotten apples passed through his nostrils. Draco couldn't help but frown, and subconsciously pulled his hand away from Harry's palm and slowly backed away.
Harry's eyes were startled by the sudden brightness. A drop of crystal clear light fell as his eyes suddenly closed, and the edge of his eyelids, which was unable to dodge in time, emitted a fine itchy sensation.
"Sorry." Draco pinched his hands behind his back, and the sharp pain completely dispelled the slight itch.
Harry stared blankly at Draco, who was covered by the cold mist, and an inexplicable disappointment spread in his heart.
"I'm fine," Harry interrupted Draco, a sunny smile on his face again, but his brows were still slightly furrowed.
Harry's mind was full of questions, but facing Draco who was isolating himself, he couldn't ask them. He could only hold the questions in his stomach and continue to smile.
Draco's slightly raised lips closed silently again, his eyes drooped slightly, covering up the complex emotions emerging deep in his eyes.
He turned and walked deeper into the corridor. The dim light made his thin white face look even paler. His slender, hazy shadow cast a long silhouette on the ground, shrouding Harry, who was standing by the window, in the shadow.
"Harry, are you Harry first, or Harry Potter?" Draco looked at Harry with his empty, wandering eyes, not knowing whether he was asking Harry or questioning himself.
Harry was stunned when he heard this, his eyes flickering.
This was a question he had never thought about before, Harry or Harry Potter, the savior or Harry, he himself was not sure of the answer.
But whether it was Harry or the savior, they were both the same person, Harry Potter. During his six years at Hogwarts, even if he didn't care about the reputation of the savior, he had already gotten used to the existence of this title.
Therefore, he really didn't know how to answer this question.
Draco took in Harry's momentary confusion and a bitter smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.
"Dumbledore spent six years training you to be the savior, and I, Malfoy, have been supported by him for seventeen years, Harry..." Draco and Malfoy have long been one, how can I separate them? I will accompany you to uphold the shaky Statute of Secrecy.
"Who are you protecting with the secrecy laws you insist on upholding?"
Is it to protect the wizarding world from interference and potential persecution by Muggles, or to protect the Muggles who are using their numbers to purify the "smuggled" wizards?
Grindelwald, who seeks power through violence, and the mysterious figure who exterminates Muggles, are not the solution for wizards. So, can Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic, who have forced wizards to live in a small, isolated area, truly protect wizards from persecution?
Then, with the development of urbanization, how long can the Muggle expulsion zone, which is constantly forced to shrink, be maintained?
Draco stopped talking before he finished. His slightly furrowed brows quickly relaxed, and the clear ripples in his eyes returned to calm. Only the bitterness that slid down his throat became more profound.
Harry saw the fleeting sadness and despair on his cheeks, and his heart couldn't help but shrink, like a sponge that was suddenly squeezed.
Harry stepped forward and took Draco's cold, stiff wrist, gently squeezing it.
"Draco." Harry whispered Draco's name, focusing his vacant eyes on him. His tone was gentle and firm, with an incomparable certainty. "The Statute of Secrecy protects all who need it, wizards and Muggles alike."
Draco's hand softened from being warmed by Harry's grip. He lowered his head, holding onto his warm yellow fedora, and slowly raised his head with the force of Harry's pull, revealing a pair of eyes that were blazing with the reflected sunlight.
The afternoon sun shines through the clouds onto Big Ben at the Palace of Westminster, and the golden hands appear particularly dazzling against the blue sky.
Draco stood in the crowd, looking up at the iconic clock tower.
It is like a giant beast left in the time tunnel by the past, and it is out of tune with the high-rise buildings next to it, which are holding large LED screens and broadcasting BBC Radio 4 News, as well as the towering and colorful buildings.
His eyes passed through the bustling streets, looking at the dense crowds of people swarming and dispersing in an orderly manner among the lights jumping above their heads. The sirens, sirens, and scarlet warning lights still could not stop the overwhelming crowds coming to the zebra crossing.
In the distance, a wisp of black mist like smoke would emerge from time to time, and the red arc of light was like the occasional lightning that burst out from the dark clouds.
Draco looked at the young man who suddenly collapsed at the entrance of the alley in the distance. It seemed as if a rotten sweet apple was poured into his throat again, and the joints of his limbs, which had been stable, suddenly became blocked.
A flickering candlelight, a dimly lit room, a harsh and contemptuous mouth, and a group of wild dogs tearing flesh and blood under the seat.
The smell of rotten sweet apples continued to seep out from his stomach and spread, sucking his esophagus and climbing up until it bulged his entire throat.
In an instant, the entire street was filled with a tangled, unpleasant scent of perfume, a blindingly tight vision, and a constant barrage of screams—all of it, like a ball of jelly falling from a tree, slamming into you with a "clack," enveloping you, clinging even to your thoughts...
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
