"I tripped over five flowerpots and broke a window. Don’t ask me how—even I don’t know.” 
 
I raise an eyebrow and say, “That’s quite an impressive bit of acrobatics. Why didn’t you do us all a favor and trip over a Venomous Tentacula pot as well?”
 
She coughs and looks away, embarrassed. “Actually, I did. Two of them. The other three were a Snargaluff and two Devil’s Snares.”

"How did you survive?"
 

She scoffs sadly. “Quite the contrary. I understand everything now.” She leans closer and whispers, her eyes moist, “If you just want another conquest, acting like you need someone to listen to you is not the way to go about it. I hear Pansy Parkinson’s single these days.” With that, she pulls away sharply and turns in the opposite direction, black heels clicking solemnly against the ancient marble floor.

 “I’m so selfish.”

She startles me. “What?”

“I want you to stay with me. Forever. Despite the darkness of whatever he told you to do, I can’t have you leave me. I’d... rather you did it than leave me. I feel horrible for thinking that way, but I love you too much to let you go.” She presses her head into my chest, listening for my heartbeat.

She beams. “Hello, Harry, Ronald, Hermione,” she says, putting her wand away. “I was just teaching Malfoy a lesson.” She fixes me with a pretend cold glare (or as near to one as she could go, which wasn’t far).

I finally reach my bed, my suitcase. I open it, almost praying foolishly that it won’t be there. But of course it is, gleaming ominously in the light as I pull it out. "Draught of Living Death," the dusty label reads. "Warning: extremely powerful. Use with care." I almost smile. None of that matters now.