BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

75

My clothes are dry. Mopsy is waiting outside of Draco's father's office when we exit. I change inside the office, and Draco leads us down to the fireplace, silently. Our footsteps feel as though they are such a loud echo reverberating off these walls. He walks quicker than I've seen him walk in a long time. I guess I am the least tired I can ever remember being.

"Draco-"

"Go to St. Mungo's," he cuts me off. "They'll be able to get your memories."

"You know why I'm doing this," I try to make the words solid, rather than stumble over them. I can't afford to slow down or else I feel like he might leave me. "She deserves to have you as much as I do. You'll never probably have either of us until we are the same."

Draco shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I want to know you like you know me," I shake my head. "I will find you."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it," Draco doesn't even look at me. "I know that you'll never be happy until you have them. Besides, if I do get you to come with me, you're just going to slip away to get the memories at your first chance."

"Tell me where you are going," I plead. "I'll come as soon as I can."

"Once you're found out, they're going to poke around your memory so much," Draco says. "I'm not putting the information in your head for the aurors to find, and I'll have no way to contact you after. If you think you'll be able to find me, you can try."

He leads me to the fireplace. He goes to hand me the floo powder. I ignore the bag and jump into his arms. He doesn't hold me back, so I keep squeezing and squeezing, begging for him just to touch me.

His hand finds the small of my back. Part of the bag of Floo powder spills, and he adjusts, but we don't move.

"I love you too," I tell him, and I say it for both versions of me.

When I pull back, we kiss each other. Softly. Then, he grips me tightly. I try to breathe. It isn't goodbye. I do not believe in farewells. He never said goodbye in Inverness, nor did he say hello. He always knew that we would be together again, just as I know it now.

Finally, I magically ignite the fire and toss the floo powder into the green flames.

As I step into the flames, I finally let go of his hands.

"St. Mungo's," I say, just as he speaks.

"Goodbye."

He's never said that word to me before. My eyes widen but it's too late. I go to reach out to him, and I feel my arm clip against the floo. The side of it scrapes against the side of the fireplace as I'm sucked away, and I'm only barely able to force my arm inward. With my eyes closed and my mouth, I try to keep the groan inside me. In my already dire state, I truly cannot ingest any if the soot in here.

In just a few steps, I'm stumbling out, but I manage to catch myself before I hit the ground. Covered once more in dirt, and my hair wild, I peer around. I'm in an entryway of a hospital. My feet force myself to the desk, with my one arm holding onto my injured hand and my wand in the other. I think Ron and Hermione are still here if the situation hasn't changed since I saw Harry.

So, I head to the desk. The woman stares at me, her eyes narrow, scanning up and down.

"What's your emergency?" she says.

"I'm looking for Ron Weasley," I say to the lady at the desk, tucking my injured arm behind me. My stomach lurches into my throat from the pain. It's more than a wince. "You can tell him Jane Miller is here."