My body is so incredibly tired today. While I cannot say that staying up so late was a mistake, I am absolutely reaping the consequences this morning. Ginny made a full English breakfast, probably as some sort of apology for excluding me, so Harry came knocking to come and get me. I have time to shower beforehand, and the cold wakes me up.

I drink earl grey tea and apple juice with breakfast. The last time I had tea was at Mad Goodbye, and then it was mixed with whiskey. I suppose the fact that I do not like tea all that much might be more controversial in other settings, but no one bothers me. They let me drink my juice in peace.

"You seem tired," Ginny raises an eyebrow at me.

"Nightmares were worse last night," I point out, shrugging. In reality, I slept for peacefully than usual.

"We should tell Hermione," Harry offers. "Did you remember them?"

"No," I never remember them, so at least that isn't suspicious.

Ginny stabs her sausage with her fork. I'd rather that she calms down since they are going to be trying to force me out of the house on Monday. Well, they are going to want to force me out of the house. If all goes according to plan, I will be leaving here tonight.

After breakfast, Harry and I move back to practicing defence. He is just as enthusiastic as ever, which I suppose is because he enjoys teaching.

"You should be a professor," I offer.

Harry smiles. He continues trying to teach me to cast a Patronus charm. There is a wisp of light after the fourth attempt, but it doesn't turn fully incorporeal even, and I cannot replicate it. Eventually, he brings Ginny into the room, who reluctantly allows me to practice disarming her and Harry at the same time.

I can do them both, but not if they either of them is actively defending.

After lunch, I begin go through most of my routine. I play the cello and practice spell work. Specifically, I look into using the Imperturbable Charm to quiet my journey tongiht and how I can extend it instead of casting it on the fireplace itself. Once I'm feeling decently confident, I let myself take a nap. No one comes to check on me, so at least I feel a bit better. Then, soon enough it is dinner, which we eat without Draco. I'm beginning to think I won't see him before I leave.

Once dinner is eaten, Harry and Ginny go for a walk. I suppose that means Draco is around to check on me. Regardless, I take the opportunity to use my oil pastels. I picture the scenery in my head from the night we were on the jazz cruise. I try my best to shape the boat in the water and the river's edge. It's hard to make the lights seem like a soft glow. The tiniest bit of black taints everything. There is more dark than light.

Even still, it was a beautiful night.

Since the canvas it quite small, I've done most of the bare bones of the drawing within two hours. Even though I am distracted, I hear footsteps enter the front room behind me. I don't look up. When a shadow towers over the canvas, I put my pastels down.

"You're blocking my light," I don't turn my head.

The shadow of Draco's head turns to the side. I can feel him move in, and his breathe on my ear, "interesting."

"I never said I was good," I adjust myself in the chair, trying to get a better look at the painting. "You know I've been shit for years."

"I never said that your art is bad," his voice is smooth. "I said you insist that your art is bad."

"It's not good though," I point out.

He doesn't argue with me. Instead, he grabs the chair opposite me. We sit at the little table in the corner of the room which the others have been using as a work station while keeping an eye on me. My gaze flickers up to him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. Rather, he flicks his wand, and the copy of 1984 flies to him across the room. The bookmark flutters out onto the ground.

"You still haven't finished this," he muses, flipping through the pages.

"You lost my bookmark," I cross my arms over my chest.

"You haven't been reading it anyway," there is a twitch of a smirk at his lips.

"Well," I pause, glaring at him. "I'm certainly not going to finish now, am I?"

"Why do you hate it?" he asks.

His eyes glimpse up at me behind the book. They are grey. I've never noticed his eyes before, or at least, I've not noticed them like this. Too often he looked away from me when he found me in Inverness, and when he did look there was more shock than acknowledgement. Even then, I would notice the bags under his eyes, or now I notice the yellow and green tint to the skin around them from when Ron punched him.

"I don't hate it," I say.

He shakes his head with the softest of smiles, "I meant the book, not me."

"I know," I say because I did know somewhere deep down. Although, I will admit that I had gotten distracted. "Hate is a strong word. I feel nothing towards it but annoyance."

"You used to say it was the best of the three," he flips the book over and scans the back cover.

"It's fine," I say. "I just have better things to read."

"I think you are avoiding finishing it," he passes the book to me.

My hands run over the cover. It was the nicest, the oldest, of the three books Draco bought for me at the bookstore. He chose from the three books I sent him before I had disappeared. The Lord of the Flies is more engaging than devastating. If I had read The Great Gatsby then, knowing what I know now, it might make me sadder. After all, seeking the future by chasing the past isn't possible, according to Fitzgerald.

It is always about what we don't know.

"1984 is just hopeless," I say. "The other books are pretty cynical and sad, but at least not everything was lost at the end. I might not remember having read 1984, but I know the ending."

Draco nods.

After I put the book on the ground, I turn my attention back to the oil paints. He sits across from me, but he isn't watching. He is busy using his wand to make objects move and back and forth across the room. Eventually, he has several books in the air as well as Ron's chessboard.

"He won't be happy if that falls," I don't look up.

"I don't particularly care about what Weasley thinks if I'm honest," he says.

The practice seems below him. I look up and watch, and he is frowning. When I first touched my wand and then had it taken away, I remember feeling like I lost something. Perhaps he is anticipating that feeling soon because he is going to be sent to Azkaban.

So, I put the oil pastels down to watch him, and then I furrow my brow, "is that a radio?"

"A wireless," Draco corrects. "Well, I guess it is like a radio, yes."

"Can we listen to music?" I ask, staring at it.

Draco nods. He begins to send the objects that he is juggling, including the radio, back into their places. It gets tucked in beside a few books, with one in front of it. I suppose I've never looked at a shelf close enough to notice it before since it is rather smaller than any muggle radio I've seen.

With a flick of his wand, the wireless is on. A rock song blasts out. I actually know the melody. I couldn't sing along to the lyrics, but the beat is familiar and so is everything else.

"No," Draco flicks his wand again, and the station switches to opera. He changes it twice more before something that sounds more classical comes on.

"I knew you didn't like modern music," I point out.

He rolls his eyes, standing. With a flick of his wand, all of the furniture in the room is pushed against the walls. Despite his apparent annoyance, he offers me a hand. I take it, and then I am standing next to him. With my hands on his shoulders and his on my waist, I begin to dance with him.

"Pretty presumptuous to assume I was asking for a dance," I say, shaking my head. It is just like the night on the cruise, even if we are trapped here.

"You have such a habit of repeating yourself," he rolls his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be mad at you," which, I am supposed to be angry with him. Really, I'm supposed to be furious. He is betraying me. Although perhaps this is his opportunity. He can confess what is going to happen, and then we can figure out what to do together, without sending me to Canada and him to Azkaban. I could tell him Theo did not do this, and though he might hurt, he will be able to be there for me.

"Well, I was never supposed to be here either," he shakes his head. "At least, not on this side of the war."

"You're here though," I say. "Might as well make your best of the freedom."

He spins me, most likely to avoid answering. I feel my stomach grow ill. Just as he didn't tell me that I would be on my own the last time he tried to send me to Canada via portkey, he is doing so again. I don't remember the betrayal then, but it stings terribly now. All of this happens because he continues to lie. Truly, there is no one here I can trust to get to the bottom of this.

"Suppose I should," he finally says.

I try my best to smile and finish the dance with him, but there is a rock in my chest. I did not know how much it could hurt to want to trust him. He fails me again and again. I wonder if this is how he will feel tomorrow when I abandon him.

After we are done dancing, I put my hand to my head.

"I think I should go to bed," it is quite late already.

"Do you want me to come?" he asks.

"You can never sleep beside me," I cannot let him be there because then I will never sneak away. "You can always hear me screaming."

"I can take a draught," he says.

Actually, that is preferable. So, I nod. We head upstairs together and get ready for bed separately. I hear Harry and Ginny come home, and I listen to them laugh through the hallway when they rush past the door. Soon enough, Draco and I are both ready to sleep. He takes the draught.

"Do you want to actually do something tomorrow?" he asks. "We might be able to sneak out to that park nearby."

"Isn't it dangerous?" I ask.

"Perhaps," he says.

So, I turn to him, "they are giving up, aren't they?"

"No," he says, firmly but quickly. "We're going to go deeper into hiding while Luna procures more of the augurey tears. We won't be able to even look out windows come Monday."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask. I'm tired.

"I was going to tell you at the park," Draco yawns. His eyes are growing heavy.

"Why did you wait until you took a draught to tell me?" I feel myself growing angry, but it's mostly an act. I'm not angry. He's lying to me again. When I eavesdropped on them, I listened while Hermione implied that they could not get more tears. I'm just as exhausted as he is.

"I wasn't planning on..." he trails off, getting more comfortable in the bed. "Let's talk tomorrow."

"Okay," my voice is small.

Soon enough, he is asleep.

Although, I do wait several hours after that before I am sure that Harry and Ginny are asleep. Soon enough though, I have my bag packed. I even pack 1984, despite my lack of desire to read the book. Then, I steal one of the brooms. When Ron went chasing after me, I saw where they had them stored. Getting it in my bag is a touch more difficult, but eventually I have everything I need. I unlock the front door, so that it seems as though I left through it.

This part is going to prove the hardest. I cast the Imperturbable Charm on my bag. Hopefully it works well enough that I can concentrate on the Floo. I drop my bag next to the fireplace and start the fire. After taking a few steps back, I realize that I cannot hear the logs crackling. From there, I grab the bag and throw the floo powder in the fire.

I speak carefully, "Boot Residence, Derry."

~~~~~

I can't wait for what's next. Any predictions about Terry Boot? Let me know in the comments.