All the Ghosts are Screaming

7

Harry startled, jumping even more when the counter girl (Hannah?) came out of the back, the bell on the door tinkling. It was nice to know that Draco wasn't the only one feeling the tension in the air. "No." He scratched the back of his neck, ruffled his hair so it fell down over his scar. He was due for a hair cut soon. "Not from here."

They bounced from store to store, after that, from the book store to the deli to even ducking into Borgin and Burkes for some reason (Draco had the sneaking suspicion that Harry was either trying to include his past interests or doing some detective work while Draco's back was turned), until finally landing in the quidditch supply store.

"I want a new broom." Harry said, running his fingers down the handle of the one that the manager had left for them to suspect, eyes dancing. Draco figured this is what he must have looked like back in the apothecary shop. "Deserve it, after last year, huh?"

"Then buy it." Draco wasn't used to living with someone like harry, a person who had felt what it was to need to conserve money. In Draco's house, if you saw something you wanted, you got it, no matter the cost. (Even if the cost wasn't monetary.) "Use some of your prophet money."

One of the trials after the war centered around the Prophet and all the false stories they had been printing. The result was as if they had turned the whole building upside down and shook it, until every corrupted editor and writer had fallen out, fired and without another job to turn to. And Harry got a lot of reparation money for the things they had printed about him in his fifth year.

Harry looked tempted for a moment, but then he put it back and looked around for the manager, who he either wanted to say good bye to or thank. He's always unfailingly polite to the people working. "Nah. Where would I fly it, anyways?" But then he was turning back to it again, so obviously wanting it. "Though I could go to the Weasley's. You could come to."

He made the offer in an off hand sort of way, but Draco still recoiled, drawing away from Harry as if the thought had burned him.. "No." He spit the word out and the panic rose up, because didn't Harry understand? "I killed their son." That was the awful truth of it, how when you are on the wrong side but still right enough to feel guilt, every horrible thing fell onto your shoulders. "I'm never going there."

Harry doesn't push, just looked sad, like he wanted to hold Draco but couldn't make himself reach out. "Alright."

But they both knew it wasn't.

"Listen." Harry was leaving him, leaving him at the door of the Weasley's shop, and Draco didn't know if it was payback for his comment or if this was Harry's sick idea of trying to fix things, but he was about ready to throw his dignity out the window and beg for Harry to stay, because this can not happen. "It's just going to be a minute."

"I'll come with you." Draco could not express how much he didn't want to go in there, all the rules he thought it would be breaking. It was different when he was with Harry. Harry was a shield, someone that stopped people from being reminded of what Draco had done. "I'll just wait outside."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Draco was about to ask why, when he realized that he knew. They had been here all day, and there were only two shops they hadn't gone to: the twins, and Ollivanders. Of course Harry would want to see him, and of course Draco couldn't go.

"Right." His took his hand off Harry's arm, because he did not deserve to touch him. He could hear Harry calling after him, but he did not want to be more of a nuisance than he already had, so he turned and walked back through the door.

Draco had been in here exactly once, when he had bought the Peruvian instant darkness powder. Then, it was crowded and bursting at the seems with products, so bright that it almost hurt to look at. Now it was quiet, with gaping holes on the shelves and a witch with a pinched face behind the counter.