𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟔 - 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 № 𝟑

╭────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────╮

𝐃

I can't decide how exactly to go about explaining the next part of our story. Everything happened very quickly, yet I recall those Christmas days of 1996 with too much detail.

To begin, I'd like to say that during the last months of 1996, from summer to Christmas, I always regarded the task that was bestowed upon me as something that I would eventually do, one way or another. As much as I avoided the dark details of the task itself, I knew that sooner or later it would have to be done. Yes, I procrastinated; yes, I drank; yes, I dragged my feet and dallied but in my mind, it was something that in due course would be unavoidable.

Never had I thought that I would someday end up searching for a reasonable and plausible way out of this nasty business. From Christmas on, everything changed once again. It must have been because the few days I am about to describe contained too much of The Clash or David Bowie sounds.

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

When I had arrived in Trafalgar Square, barely a few minutes after the Gallery's opening hours, it was almost empty, and I had hoped that it would remain this way. When we walked out in the brightness of the winter morning, tourists had already gathered, taking photographs in their muggle devices, staring at maps while children tried to climb upon the bronze lions, their parents ordering them to come down in distress. I suddenly felt a sense of insecurity around me.

Ophelia knew her way around and was ready to leave.

"The best way to move around London is by tube. We can take the Bakerloo line and then switch-"

"I'd rather be dead. I've had enough muggle transportation rides to last me a lifetime in order to get here," I said and lit a cigarette as we walked down the right staircase that led back to Trafalgar Square.

"Bus?" She thought that the popular red buses were going to tempt me.

"Doesn't that count as muggle transportation as well, smart one? Isn't there some other way to go to Borough Market? Maybe one that doesn't involve sitting next to those filthy-"

"Ah, yes. The never-changing Draco Malfoy," she said. "We could try walking. But it's at least 40 minutes away."

I looked around. Yes, the square was crowded but the streets leading to it seemed walkable.

"Which way?" I said. "And... can we go around the square?"

She made a scornful look but understood. Then, with certainty, she started walking, and I followed her lead. We walked past right around the spot where I'd first learned she was a half-blood. I was smoking back then too. There was some sense of satisfaction that we were now casually walking around, ready to spend a day together.

Ophelia led me through the less crowded spots of the square and then onto Northumberland Avenue. There were no little shops and cafés right and left and it was still fairly early, so this street was rather quiet and perfect for looking around. Later, started the trees, tall and naked around us. Yes. Quite beautiful.

Ophelia pulled her hair out of her brown coat. She had put that coat in a hurry when we'd left the Gallery and so the braid had been trapped under the fabric this whole time. It must have been bothering for minutes. Now that she flicked it out, the smell that it emitted was indisputable. Coffee. Maybe nutmeg. It blended in with the air. Yes. Quite beautiful.

"How was your first night back?" she asked absentmindedly. "These are the Whitehall Gardens," she said and showed to our right. The gardens seemed rather dull during the winter but I imagined them flourished and colourful during the spring. Ophelia resumed looking at me after this small pause.