‘Her name was Marguerite,’ Iain whispers, his voice raspy and faint. ‘Your mother?’ Harry says, scooting onto the floor and sitting near him. Iain nods, tears rolling down his face, as ugly sobs emerge from his mouth. Harry realises it’s the first time he’s seen him cry, really cry out loud. Harry flaps his arms awkwardly. ‘Please don’t stab me,’ he says. Then he reaches in, very slowly, and hugs Iain.
