BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

08

I explain the rules to him. They aren't particularly complicated, so he catches on quickly. The essential rule is that one of us has to say a fact about the other person, an assumption really, and if that fact is wrong, then the person who made the assumption has to take a sip of their drink. It ends when someone is too drunk to continue.

At least, it should bide us a little bit of time until sunrise.

It occurs to me that if I stay that late, I will have to walk back home in this tight dress and dark makeup. The flat is a good hour walk from here. It would be humiliating if I were someone more concerned about what others think about me. Maybe if people gave me much thought at all, I would care.

The worst will be when I get home. Niamh might be awake, and she will certainly look down on me for coming home at such an hour. Ali and Amanda might ask me for all the details about my encounter with the blonde from the bar. However, they also might not be talking. I really cannot handle them.

"I'll start, then," he pulls me out of my thoughts by speaking.

He is smirking. If he isn't frowning, he is smirking. Rarely does he emote in a way that might make him seem like less of a prat. He does undo the top few buttons of his shirt, having already shrugged off the blazer when we entered the room.

"Well then, start," I am tired of waiting.

"You're from southern England," he points out.

I chuckle, "the accent is quite revealing, isn't it? I take it you are too."

His lips twinge up into a fake smile for a moment, one that is gritted through his teeth, and then he looks back at me, "your turn."

"I just went," I explain. "You are also from the south."

He picks up his glass off the table, his head shaking back and forth, "fine, if you must be insulant. You're a brunette."

"Obviously," I exhale through my nose, my mouth pinched shut. "Your parents are rich. Old money, more specifically."

He nods.

"What jobs do they have?" I put my glass down on the table. Maybe if I distract him, I won't end up getting too intoxicated. The alcohol we are drinking clearly has a stronger effect on me than on him. My head feels loose on my neck.

"No jobs," he shakes his head. Even though he isn't supposed to drink, he drinks anyway.

"So, quite a bit of old money then?"

He looks at me, "you're just into me for my fortune, then, aren't you?"

"Who said I'm into you?" now it is my turn to smirk.

Now, he finishes his drink. He fills it once more. I almost expect once the decanter is recorked that he will swallow the entire contents of the glass. He holds it instead and swirls the liquid. It almost looks like parts of it sparkle. At least I know if there are drugs inside, we are both stuck.

Perhaps he is part of a human trafficking scheme. His group will take me once we both fall unconscious. It's a strange thought, but I suppose I'm full of those kinds of thoughts all the time.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't into me," he says. He pauses, possibly thinking though he is hard to read. Finally, he speaks. "You are always attracted to mean men."

I say nothing. There is no hair to tuck behind my ear since it is still pinned away in those stupid butterfly clips that Ali had picked out. I guess I bring the glass up to my lips to change the bitter taste that fills my mouth into something sweeter. Before the whisky can pass into my lips, I swear the taste is so metallic it is almost like my mouth is filled with blood.