BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

54

It takes a lot to leave him so that I can get ready for bed. Part of me worries that I'm going to start hyperventilating because I know that as soon as he is out of my sight, there is no guarantee he will be back. I five, and I four, and I three, and I two, and when I am about to one, I rush to the bathroom so that I can taste the mint toothpaste. I look at myself in the mirror. I suppose I look less hollow than when I got here. Certainly, the black circles under my eyes are better. My cheeks are less red, but it is cold in this house and I am never permitted outside.

Once I am dressed in my pajamas, I head back into the bedroom. He is still there. I almost feel myself collapse on the floor in relief. His previous absence bothers me more now that he is back. I suppose now that he is back, I know what it was that I was missing.

Draco sits on the bed, on his side, and I sit on mine. We are going to have to get under the sheets, and it is cold there. While I know he sleeps beside me most nights, we rarely are this close, and I usually am asleep before he comes to bed and awake after he has gone.

"They said Luna will be here tomorrow," Draco looks over at me.

She's returning, and I suppose it will be with news either one way or the other. I nod and blink. "What time?"

"The morning," he says. "Luna, Hermione, and I will be working on the potion you will take for the afternoon. You'll take it around dinner."

"With an audience, I suppose?" I ask.

He nods, "we need watchful eyes. I've talked them out of bringing in a healer to obliviate later."

Well, at least there won't be any significant collateral damage in the attempts we are making to recuperate my memory. I suppose I could resurface now that I am able to provide somewhat adequate protection of myself from Pansy.

"Is Harry still investigating Pansy?" I ask.

Draco doesn't speak, so I know the answer to be that no, Harry is not.

"Was he ever?"

"What could he arrest her for?" he asks. "Her only crime during the war was helping cover up my murder. If that gets out, Blaise will be sent to Azkaban too. I'd rather continue our amicable relationship rather than force his hand against me."

"You don't care if people know you are a killer?" I ask.

"People already think I am," his voice is cold.

I try not to close my eyes. Instead, I force myself to pull under the covers even if I sit upright. Whether I refuse to sleep or not, Luna is going to be here tomorrow morning. Really, I have less than twenty-four hours left before my brain gets even more fractured and destroyed. Counting the time that I am going to be spent asleep, I really, truly, have much less time than I had pictured. Once the augurey tears don't work, and from what I've gathered, people don't think I have much of a chance, I'm never going to step foot in Great Britain again. I will never see my friends in Inverness, my parents in Brighton, or meet my nephew. He will never know that he was named after someone who lives, even if she lives only half a life.

"People think I'm dead," I tell him.

"I'd rather people think I died," he says.

I don't have anything to add to that idea.

I force my head down onto the pillow. My eyes won't close. The oil lamps in the room cast a soft glow around us. My body feels entirely more and more nauseous every passing second. I need liquor, but I also need to remember, but I also need to stay.