These sort of things don't happen in Harry's life.
"I love you."
He looks up at me through his lashes. They're long and pale, like the rest of him.
Instinct takes over where shock shut down.
"What kind of joke is this?"
The bitter laugher on my lips is tight on my face. It's a smile of fear: bared teeth say, get away from me.
His face hardens. Lips tighten, eyes freeze.
"You /bastard/," he hisses. His teeth are clenched, the muscle twitches in his jaw.
This makes no sense.
"You're being stupid. What, do you have a few buddies waiting around the corner to come out and laugh?"
Something in him snaps.
The air fair crackles, freezes. And he turns on heel with a swish of robes and something like a sob, but why would he be crying?
I watch him go around the corner and out of sight.