BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

21

It is so fucking cold outside. I don't think I've ever been so cold, and that scares me because alcohol keeps you warm. My feet nearly drag. I'm further away from the river so I am not as concerned about strange men finding me on the street and doing what they will with me. Really, I am more concerned about passing out on a street corner and then being found blue and dead the next day.

The walk might have sobered me if I hadn't brought more alcohol. My thoughts aren't clear. No more hazy than usual at least, but I can tell I'm making poor decisions. I'm always making poor decisions. What's another?

Then, I feel a drop on my nose and another. It begins to freezing rain. A torrential downpour of sorts, actually. Somehow, it gets fucking worse than I had anticipated. I stand, feeling the rain stab through my coat. It's water resistant, but soon the rain is hard enough that I need to get inside somewhere.

Draco's new place is close.

I'm always making poor decisions. What's another?

If I weren't drunk, I'd be able to get there in less than ten minutes. It takes me twice that. Soon, I'm walking into the lobby. Every part of me struggles to drag myself upstairs. As drunk as I was the night that we slept next to each other, I am right pissed now. If I weren't shivering, I'm sure that I would give up and curl into a ball, sleeping on the stairs.

Instead, I make it outside his door. I try to rap on it with my knuckles, but they burn. The heat of this whole place is so painful. Instead, I kick the door with my foot. Too hard. It aches. It'll ache worse in the morning.

I'm surprised I'm even cognisant of what's going on. My body is far past the point of vomiting on that damn curve. Maybe I won't remember this in the morning. When you get black out drunk, do you forget what happens or does your brain just stop recording? God, Amanda would know. She knows all sorts of stuff, and I know nothing except that if another man touches my hair, I will lose my mind. As of now, I'm only holding on by a thread anyway.

The door opens right before I give up. Draco looks at me and pulls me inside.

"Did you walk here?" he asks. Then he smells me, "how much have you had to drink?"

"Damn twins," when they shotgunned the cans, the beer splashed up on my trousers.

Draco catches me. I hadn't even realized that I was tipping over. He puts me down on the bathroom floor. I lean against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. The room is spinning, somehow even more than me.

After eons of sitting on the floor, he comes back. He finds my jacket, undoing it. My fingers are too sloppy to help. I've gotten more drunk since I left. I should've expected that. When you drink, it takes a while to get into your bloodstream.

As he is shrugging my coat off my shoulders, I grab the flask from inside. Just as I've screwed off the top, he grabs it and throws it out of the room. It thumps on the carpet.

"Hey," I manage.

"You are not drinking anymore," he tells me. "I had plans."

"No you didn't," I giggle, and then the giggle warps in my mouth until one sob escapes. I press my lips together tightly, trying to contain it.

"I did," he insists. "If I didn't think you were going to die of hypothermia or alcohol poisoning, I'd put you in a cab and send you back to your flat."

"You don't mean that," he does. I fucking know he does.

He sighs. He also takes off my flannel, which is soaked through. The room burns my skin. Almost painful.