BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

13

Draco and I made plans for after my shift on Tuesday over a week later. He shows up at the flat and presses the buzzer this time.

Niamh is the only one home other than me. I only caught a glimpse of the other two flatmates again Sunday morning since they were out by the time I got back from Loch Ness. Whatever anger they were harbouring after the night I went to the pub with them has simmered from a boil. I pull on my shoes in the doorway, hoping this time the jumper and trousers that I'm wearing are satisfactory. The jumper is a light blue hue, which is the brightest colour I own. I wouldn't wear it to any pub except Mad Goodbye.

"Next time tell whoever is waiting not to buzz," Niamh grumbles from her spot at the table. "Texting is quieter."

"I don't have a phone," I stare at her.

She doesn't look up from her textbook. Even after I wait for her to speak, she doesn't. Consequently, I walk out of the front door and close it behind me. Then, I make my way down to where Draco waits.

His foot taps from where he stands on the sidewalk, only stopping once I open the front door.

"Hello," he looks at me and offers a tense smile.

"Hi," we've never shared a greeting between the two of us, I realize. The most that has been exchanged between the two of us in that regard is when he promises that he will see me again. Every conversation we've had is a continuation of the last, never starting anew.

Except for today.

He begins to walk.

"Mad Goodbye is that way," I gesture behind him.

He scoffs, "I know. We're heading this way."

Once I've caught up to him, my fingers find their way up to the zipper of my jacket, pulling it up tighter. He's back to his peacoat, with a scarf tucked inside to keep him warm, and I'm still using this thin jacket. It wasn't meant to carry me this far into October.

"Another tourist trap?" I ask, finally done fiddling with the zipper.

"Not entirely," he finally manages.

We walk until we reach the river. The depths don't seem as deep as those in the loch. He picks up the pace and I hurry along beside him. Soon enough we are in an area with several shops, and he ducks inside one so quickly that I barely notice the name of the place. It's Verbatim Books and Nooks.

We enter, the bell jingling above us. He hurries inside, only nodding his head towards the shopkeeper. We are in a bookstore, evidently, and I am assuming it is as old as I am, if not older. The hallways are narrow, the shelves tall. There is a second floor above us, much like Vanish, where if there were people above, they'd be able to peer down at us. As we walk deeper into the store, the books get older. Books that have been published this year, perhaps even this summer, are on the first few shelves. Deeper and deeper we go.

"What are your favourite books?" he asks.

I shrug, "don't do a lot of reading."

"Figured," his back is to me, but I am sure he is rolling his eyes. I ought not to be sure. After all, I don't know him. At least, not superficially. It's an unfortunate reality that he knows more about me than most and yet nothing at all. Does Blaise know as much about him as I do? Does anyone?

He turns down an aisle and begins to scan the spines of books.

"Looking for anything in particular?" I ask him.