BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

22

Drinking like that is one of the biggest mistakes that I've made in my entire life. When I wake up, the confession feels raw in my throat. I wish I had a plaster to stop it from bleeding. I'll choke on the blood. If I don't it will infect me. Alcohol could be used to clean out the wound, but alcohol is what got me into this mess anyway.

Draco is in the desk chair still. His head leans back against the wall, his eyes closed. His hand holds mine, the same as it did last night. When I move his eyes open. He turns his head and winces, rubbing the back of it.

"Sorry," I manage.

He looks at me oddly, "what for?"

"I stole your bed," I point out.

He blinks. Our fingers are still intertwined. He must notice at the same time as I do because he jerks his hand back. He uses all ten of his fingers to massage the crook in his neck. When I peer over at the clock, I realize it is nearly noon. We must've been up late. With this nausea in my stomach, this headache, this fatigue and this pain, I might have to call in sick to work. Then again, I might want to reserve my sick day for Monday morning, when I know Graham will be in.

I'd rather not talk to him after last night.

"Well, I don't sleep well anyway," there are deep dark circles under his eyes. If I wasn't with Draco last night, I would assume someone punched him in the face and broke his nose. He's usually a bit pale, but today he looks grey.

"I think I should go," I tell him.

I am wobbly on my feet as I pull myself out of bed. All the blood rushes to my head. My hands find the mattress and I lean back against it, too dizzy to make my actions look casual. The world is black; my vision is so fuzzy it almost tingles.

"Let's get dressed first," he says.

My head shakes, "I'm good, thanks. I can return the clothes later."

"Why are you in a rush?" he asks.

My vision begins to return as he moves in front of me. He is bent over, trying to look at my face. I don't want him to discover whatever he expects to find.

"I don't understand, do you want to puke at the side of the road?" there is almost a laugh in his throat. Even if I found it funny, I wouldn't. Laughter might tear the wound in my throat even deeper.

"We'll just talk later," I tell him.

He frowns, "you're embarrassed."

My silence answers for itself.

Draco gets up and sits next to me on the bed, at the very edge. He sighs, sniffs as he scrunches his nose, and looks away from me.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," he shakes his head. "Not about what you told me anyway. I could see the excessive drinking and showing up unannounced as embarrassing, but..."

Whatever he wants to add, he chooses not to say.

"It shouldn't be humiliating, I know, but it is," I admit.

For so long, I have been hiding. Not just by moving, but by letting myself fade from the vision of everyone I know. My dreamed superpower of object impermanence was all too real. Ali and Amanda have spilled their secrets with me over late-night glasses of liquor, and I even know more about Niamh than I ever expected to know. What do they know about me except that I come from Southern England, and I left?