Harry slouched against the wall, eventually tipping over and laying flat on his back. It was cold – too cold – but it felt relieving, somehow. He’d gotten himself into this position because he was freaking out about his grandfather refusing to marry and naming Harry his heir; in his miserably hungover state he’d once again spoken without thinking and gotten himself into an even bigger mess. Why did he talk? Harry vowed to never speak again, and also to permanently hex Malfoy’s mouth shut.