BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

81

After much argument, Zabini is given a wand. They set up an anti-apparition jinx on the room, and they ward him in his spot so that the only dark curses which he could cast through it are the unforgiveable ones, much like the spell that Ginny set up all those days ago when Draco and I were in her home. It isn't a hundred percent safe for me, but I suppose it can never quite be a hundred percent safe.

"I need you to make eye contact," Zabini tells me.

"Tell your client to address me, rather than my client," Hestia offers.

All I do is nod. Zabini and I are across from each other. The only person closer to him is Harry, who stands just outside of the line, ready to move if Zabini thinks himself clever or cruel. When Auror Dawlish gives the nod, Zabini grins.

"I anticipate that this will be painful," Zabini offers, turning to Auror Dawlish. "If she screams, understand that I'm not trying to hurt her."

While I might doubt him, Auror Dawlish doesn't speak. Across from me, Zabini cracks his neck. Outstretching his wand in front of him, he grins at me.

"Conscientiatum," Zabini twists his wand just slightly.

The room is still there, around me, but I can feel my eyes go out of focus. It's as if I'm so deep in thought that I am in a daze. The memory doesn't play before me. Just, suddenly, it feels accessible, in great detail, as if I just lived it.

We are at the Yule Ball. My dress, violet tulle, is not something I could ever imagine myself in. I looked in the mirror, and I had hated it that night too. My mother had bought it. She thought it was beautiful, almost witchy in appearance. Clearly, it was a muggle imitation of what a witch ought to look like, so not witchy really. I had felt so out of place.

The other details are hazy, probably because Blaise wasn't there. At one point, I was dancing with Anthony, who was much younger than he is now, more athletic looking. He was handsome, so he was wrong. Terry looked average, I think. He is less clear in my memories, but his date is clear.

Mandy Brocklehurst, in a burgundy dress and bleached blonde hair, was beside me. We went to get punch. She saw the Slytherins at the punch table and she left. I stayed anyway.

Unfortunately, Blaise Zabini was the clearest person at that table. He was in wizard robes, expensive, and sipping from his goblet. His head was still and certain, but his eyes darted around. I'm aware he was looking at me though at the time I doubt I was conscious of his gaze. He knew I was listening into their conversation. No one else seemed to notice.

"Oh, you know how witches are," that was Draco.

He had to be the same age as he was in the other memory. He is only second in clarity to Zabini, beating out Mandy Brocklehurst, and certainly Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein. All of the other Slytherins are clear too, but Draco and Zabini are hyper-real. I can recall the pores on their faces. Perhaps that is because Zabini and I, in that moment, were focused on Draco. In all black, he looked quite smart. While he's always in stiff dress clothes, he never looked as comfortable in that formality as he did then.

All of them were laughing to themselves.

"Once you're done with Pansy, I'd love a turn with her," Goyle laughed, and Crabbe snorted.

Seamus mentioned Crabbe once. I'm not sure how I identify that boy as Crabbe, but I do. Goyle was shorter than he is now, and his hair a bit longer. He is just as stocky and broad, however.

"Well, I don't recommend it," Malfoy replied. He was swirling the liquid in his goblet. "Her attachments are rather annoying."

"Crabbe and Goyle are awfully desperate though," Nott added. "We should send them to Durmstrang for their own good before they wet their cocks in mud since no proper witch will even bother."