Draco straightened up and took a step back.
His palm slid from Harry's shoulder, his fingertips leaving an almost imperceptible crease in Harry's robe. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him like two moving walls, closing in as he retreated, shielding him in the middle without making it seem crowded.
Draco tilted his head and glanced at Harry. His gray-blue eyes held the coldness of I've said what I had to say; the rest is up to you, along with something barely detectable, something that seemed to say, You didn't have to be like this.
"Don't thank me." He turned, the hem of his robe cutting a clean arc through the air. "I just couldn't stand the sight of you Gryffindors bullying your own. If you can't bring yourself to eat it, don't raise it. If you raise it, protect it."
His pace was unhurried, but he did not stop. Crabbe and Goyle's heavy footsteps made the corridor's stone floor tremble faintly. After they had gone seven or eight steps, Draco suddenly halted and turned his face slightly, without looking back. His lips parted, producing two short, breathy clicks. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Then he tilted his head just enough for the people in the corridor to see the half-smile at the corner of his mouth. "Why bother?"
Then he started walking again, and this time he did not stop. Crabbe and Goyle followed him. The three figures vanished around the corner at the end of the corridor, leaving only their footsteps echoing a few times off the stone walls before they seemed to be swallowed up at the stairwell bend.
The portraits withdrew their heads into their frames. Some rolled over, some buried their faces in their arms, and some pretended they had seen nothing. Torchlight flickered over the stone walls,