BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

37

When I wake in the morning, Draco is dressed and sitting on a chair. He puts down his newspaper and looks at me.

"You're up late," he notes. "I thought I'd sleep in later with the draught I took."

I shrug. He had come to bed shortly after he left, and I had pretended to sleep for a long while. Even after he took the draught, I felt uneasy. The idea of him sleeping next to me while I wailed at night was overwhelming. I suppose I couldn't fight the sleep anymore.

"Granger is already here," he says. "She insists I accompany you downstairs."

Hermione watches me more carefully than the others. Even after she scolded Ginny, the young ginger usually leaves me to do her own business. Hermione waits outside the bathroom when I use it. Perhaps my head is in worse condition than I even thought, or perhaps she is worried about me stumbling into a curse somewhere. She does seem a bit overbearing.

"Let me dress," I tell him.

He leaves the room. I do get dressed, and then I do all the other things I need to do to get ready aside from bathe. Soon enough, we are downstairs.

Breakfast is already waiting for me in the dining room. Across from Hermione, there is a glass of apple juice and a plate of French toast once more. Ginny often makes me food before she goes to training and today is no exception

"Well, I will be back for dinner," Draco says, "even though I'm still not permitted to eat at the table."

"Take it up with Ginny," Hermione doesn't look up from her work, scanning documents over and over.

Draco looks at me once more. I expect him to lean forward, or even to speak, but he doesn't. Instead, he apparates away, much more quietly than he had arrived last night.

"Eat," Hermione insists. "If it tastes strange, it's because I've added a memory potion to the glass. It'll taste floral."

I do as she says, and she is right. It tastes almost like pollen, not masked well by the apple juice. I force it down my throat. It is more putrid than the liquor Draco drinks.

"Once you've eaten, I'm going to try a few spells on your head," she says. "I have some experience with memory charms. The one on your head seems to have been done with extreme precision and accuracy though, so I'd be surprised if I could crack it after what little reading I've done."

I take my time with breakfast. She doesn't seem to mind all too much. I glance at her notes. Trying to analyze them upside-down hurts my head, but they seem to have something to do with house-elves.

Once I am done, and the dishes are washed, we sit down in the living room. She begins to cast several spells on my head, watching carefully as different parts of my skull glow.

"I wish I knew legilimency," she mutters to herself, "it's what allowed Harry to look in your head. I'm sure if one of us was skilled at the endeavour, we would be much more successful in breaking down the spell."

I try to agree, "I'm sure it doesn't help that I had a concussion a few months after the spell."

"Suppose not," she tilts my head to get a better look at the back of it.

Her hands are on my hair and I pull back.

"Sorry," she manages. "I got caught up. Draco had mentioned not to touch your hair."

I wonder what else they've discussed. I had assumed their conversations in secret were to protect me. Well, at least I thought that I wasn't privy to the conversation to protect my brain from being overwhelmed by too much new information. I had assumed they were keeping things from me, mostly about their relationship at school and during the war, but I hadn't really thought they were discussing my care behind my back.