BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

25

Our meal was fine. We ordered another bottle of wine, so we've drank two between the two of us by the time dinner is done and we are encouraged to mill about. We move back upstairs and continue dancing. Some of the couples are way better than us, but I don't mind. I'm sure someone is looking at me and thinking that they wish someone held them as tightly as he holds me.

Eventually, the ship returns. We use a pay phone at the docks to order a cab home. The plan is to grab my stuff and bid him goodnight. Perhaps he would let me stay, but I worry I would kiss him in a way that conveys something other than lust and hunger. The excuse I tell him is that my flatmates will be quite cross with me otherwise.

We get in the cab. The music that the driver plays is nowhere near as wonderful as what we just heard. Draco doesn't tap along with his fingers in the car. It is only 8:00, and the night is young, but it is a Monday and so the streets aren't lined with people looking for a pub crawl. When we snake through smaller roads, for a second, it feels like he and I are the only people left in this city.

We get back to his hotel and head up to his room. This time, he doesn't wrestle with the key card. In a swift movement, it is in and out.

We are inside, and I rush into the bathroom. I've already gone once while on the boat, but five glasses of wine are quite a bit to drink. He switches out with me as soon as I'm done to use the bathroom himself. I go to put the clothes that I had intended to wear here into my new bag. While I was in the bathroom, he brought the bag onto the desk. I see the bell that I bought him. It was here, a few nights ago. I remember it ringing. My hands wrap around the handle and give it a shake. The sound is just as melodic as I remember.

He exits the bathroom. His footsteps are soft against the carpet. Much more muffled than when we danced.

"Can I have water?" I ask, looking back at him, the bell still in my fingers.

He goes into the minifridge and pulls out a bottle. He cracks it open before screwing the lid back on and handing it to me.

Once the bell is back down on the desk, I begin to chug water. Hopefully, that'll prevent a hangover but still keep me drunk enough that nightmares won't crack my head later. Realistically, when I go to bed in three hours, I will be more sober compared to my current state.

"Thanks," I put it down on the desk.

He steps in, so close. My body is turned away from him but that doesn't stop him. I can feel his chest pressing against my shoulder. His one hand fiddles with the hem of my skirt. My breath hitches in my throat. Never can my brain nor body work in conjunction. Usually, it is my brain that betrays me. The panic will set in and do things that I know ought not to be done. Tonight, it is my body that is disloyal. Rationally, I should not want this. It is a bad idea. Then his fingers lift the hem and trail up my thigh.

"I was supposed to be coming up for my things," I shake my head.

His head leans against mine, his lips just next to my ear, "well, you also weren't supposed to come out with me again."

"I rarely do anything that is proper and good," I admit.

His fingers leave my thigh. The second of relief I feel is lost quickly when he grabs me around the waist and pulls me so that we are face to face. Eyes interlocked. It's the alcohol, I tell myself even though my tipsiness hasn't passed into a drunken stupor. If I pretend that I am more intoxicated than I am, I can blame the alcohol rather than his effect on me.

It is not the wine though.

"I think," he hesitates, then pushes through the words, "the light switch in this room has a dimmer."