healer ross lears his throat. “we were able to omplete a full diagnosti exam, and i’m afraid the proedure is out of the question.”
drao flinhes. harry gres at the bak of the healer’s head. the man ould stand to work on his bedside manner, in harry’s opinion. no all for that kind of bluntness in front of a dying boy, really.
as if thinking along the same lines, healer donovan intervenes.
“out of the questioirely , madam,” he says. “if your son os to the proedure, it would be our duty to abide by his wishes. that being said, i would .”
mrs. malfoy’s stare is as arresting as a solid wall of ie. drao’s eyes are downast. these healers are talking about him as if he’s here, and he seems heked out, though harry is ertain he’s piking up every word.
“and rall steps ierhe more pronue. but madam pomfrey shakes her head somberly.
&reated a ase of hanahaki, and i aend i know all the details of what those test results indiate,” she says, “but even i ould tell that attempting the proedure would put mr. malfoy’s life at risk.”
“the proposed treatment is a braal proedure that would invially removing the disease,” says healer ross, at a lipped pae. “this means, mind you, that we would extrat the flowers, roots, a in doing so, we would also remove the emotiohe disease. that is, your son’s feelings for his beloved would be gone.”
“that e, yes,” says mrs. malfoy woodenly, “otherwise, i an only assume, his symptoms would return.”
“yes,” says healer donovan. “for patients oping with a his route might be more viable and might pose less risk. that is h drao. whes of the flowers are so deeply ehe feelings of affetion are a foundational part of the vitim’s being—to rip them away would be disastrous. the body olpses muh like a tree would if you haked away at its trunk.”
“speak pinly,” says mrs. malfoy, oolly. “your uded breakthrough treatment only works os who just got sik?”
healer donovan, to his redit, is not owed.
&ainly not, but a stirikier to extrat than, say, an infatuatiardless of how fast the disease itself mas or how quikly the symptoms advaages. your son has probably loved the individual iion for quite a long time.” he addresses drao at st. “hohen—?”
“eleven,” drao mutters.
“ah,” says the healer. “that expins it. childhood affetions whih blossom into true love are the most diffiult to shake. what you love as a hild deides who you are, in many ases. in most, i would say.”
“but your symptoms didn’t start until you were sixteewo,” mrs. malfoy protests.
&’s when i realized we’d hat there e,” he says. “there oi eve delusions ould have made me believe we’d—it doesn’t matter.”
mrs. malfoy opeue, but drao swihe side of the bed. his throat works as if he’s trying to hold bak a ough, but it esapes him in a puff of air aals before he bends down and grabs for a small bi beside the bed. when the flood subsides, the bin is nearly with lilies. drao rests his forehead oakes in a rattlih. his voie, when he speaks, is hoarse.
&ing our time,” he says quietly, looking at hey’ve said they an’t do it.”
“i suppose you’re pleased,” mrs. malfoy says, with a mixture of anger and worry that makes her sly like mrs. weasley. “y for a reason to say no.”
“i don’t want to talk about it anymore.” drao srubs his sleeve over his mouth. the r off him, harry realizes, ao his feet he tilts a little as if he might fall over aill, he lifts his pointy hin and straightens up his bony frame a of the room with as muh grae as he an marous gardeo his innards.
harry, in his dark orive safety of the l. drao malfoy —the stupid, slimy bully who aarget go uhe one who’d been both snape’s and umbridge’s pet; the one who’d go a dark mark spped on his arm—is in love.
hat.
drao malfoy is so i eve advaned medial magi the wizarding world has to offer an do anything about it. drao malfoy is so in love his body would shut dow love was taken from him. drao malfoy’s love for this mysterious individual is foundational to who he is.
harry’s head spihis makes a unless drao is ih some death eater loked up in azkaban right sends suh a wave of disgust rh harry that he must have made a sound, beause prall looks —he would’ve swryffindrave—straight at him.
harry holds his breath, but he is suddeain as he’d ever been about anything that she khere. but she says nothing, and after a few momeurns away. he lets out the breath he’d been holding—softly—and starts shuffling to the door, not wanting to push his luk any longer.
&lemen,” mgohe healers. “thank y the journey, and for examining my student. although, i must onfess, ynosis leaves me heavy- hearted.”
“hanahaki is a omplex afflition,” says healer ross. “there is still muh we do not uand. tell me, is there he boy’s beloved returns his feelings?”
obviously not, harry thinks, already halfway through the door. otherwise he wou