BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

36

By Monday, I am worried he isn't coming back. The counting isn't enough to keep my thoughts from spiralling out of control. Ginny has to sedate me with a potion, practically knock me out for several hours, until Hermione can come. Hermione insists that my brain is too fragile to be forcing it to sleep. She goes as far as to say that the nightmare potion needs to stop, and so they just put a silencing charm around my room. I slept horribly that night even though I was showered and on a comfortable bed. The first night here was the highest high of all, and just around the corner was the lowest low.

Tuesday, Hermione stayed with me. Their plan is for her to remain here until Wednesday evening, and then it shall be Ron's turn Thursday and Friday, and then Harry's the week after that. I do not know how long that can go on with their demanding careers. All of them seem passionate about their work, except Ron, but I cannot imagine staying with him and Draco all day. Then again, I also am beginning to imagine that Draco shall not be coming back.

Before dinner, shortly after Hermione has left, I am cognisant enough to help prepare food. Harry and Ginny always take turns making meals for each other. I insist on helping each night. Not only does it give me something to do and teach me to be a better cook, but I don't want to live like a princess while everyone risks their livelihoods, and potentially their lives, for me. I cannot deal with cursed artifacts and heirlooms, nor can I research a cure for the pain in my head. I can read some and cook as much as possible.

"Why don't you have the house-elf cook?" I ask. "I mean, I know not anymore because I'm here, but why not usually?"

Harry is stirring some frying vegetables, "Kreacher doesn't like cooking all that much. His cleaning is fine, and errands are just as good. We're already renovating so that we can sell the house and I don't need him to hate me any more than he already does. He likes to find loopholes when he is frustrated. I had to be incredibly specific when I ordered him to stay on the top floor."

"Why not let him leave?" I don't look away from the pot of potatoes as I check one to see if it's boiled.

"Well, this is his home more than mine," Harry points out. "Besides, most house-elves like to serve, no matter what Hermione says. It's not really my place to force them out of their own culture."

"I highly doubt anyone culturally wants to be a slave," I roll my eyes. "If applied historically to the non-magical world, that has some pretty horrible implications."

"You and Hermione," Harry shakes his head.

A crack like lightning strikes down the hall, presumably from the living room. The glasses in the cupboard clink against one another. I imagine firing a gun could only be a bit louder. My stomach begins to sink. Harry seems mostly unbothered.

He leaves the stovetop, and peers down the hallway, "Malfoy shouldn't be that loud when he apparates unless he's an absolute dunce."

"Could it be someone else?" I ask, my voice quiet. "I've heard him apparate when he left, and it certainly was much quieter."

He shakes his head, "well, maybe, I guess. Someone else would probably have taken the floo to get here or at least not apparated directly into the living room."

I want to go and check, but it would be foolish. Draco might be there, but so could anyone else who isn't supposed to know that they are housing a muggle. Harry pulls a wand from his belt and stalks down the hall. I listen in the doorway, unsure where I would run if I needed to hide. There is a pantry off the kitchen, but how long before someone found me?

"It's Malfoy!" Harry calls out.

I go to move just as a vegetable makes a pop sound on the stove. They are burning. Now I am stuck in the kitchen and cannot get to him, because the food is still cooking. I try to focus on the peppers in the pan, moving them around to prevent any more scorch marks.