"Potter stop bothering Malfoid so much. You sick fucker you made her skip all the way back to the Slytherin dorms. It really fucked up Salazar Slytherin's painting. He kept on saying 'Slytherin has fallen. Billions of muggles must die.' He's a painting, Harry. He won't do shit."
"Harry, I told Lupin about the Yule Ball thing and he hasn't stopped howling since. The full moon is weeks away.
'Won a Galleon.' Boy, your Gringotts account has more than the entire Weasley family earned in the last millennium.
You'll have to admit it wasn't about the Galleon sooner or later. And the earlier you do it, the better. Never thought you'd develop such a taste, but you didn't exactly have a parental figure around.
Don't worry. If she breaks your heart, she'll discover a canine has torn her room apart and done unspeakable things to her favorite dress. Shoot your shot.
Big dog out."
“Harry?” Drae called.
“Yeah?” Harry replied.
Dracaena said nothing, tightening her arms around Harry’s waist.
She watched the streetlamps blur into streaks of light behind them, resting her head against his back.
For a moment, everything felt quiet and comfortable.