𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒽 | 𝒟.𝑀.

20 | ﴾ Hideously Insipid ﴿

Draco drifted up to Madeleine's room the following Monday feeling annoyed and spiteful that he was being forced to go to the Ministry and talk to Hermione. He was making progress on deciphering the watch and didn't need the Gryffindor's sad attempt at reversing irreversible magic, but unfortunately, it was growing more and more obvious that Madeleine might.

After the disturbing Friday night and finding his wife on a bridge with a demonic, murderous Veela, he had naturally told his mother everything. Of course, not everything, leaving out the unbelievable bathroom sex that he kept replaying in his mind. Her initial reaction was that they both needed to exhaust every possible avenue for therapy if Hallewell was not being well received. Narcissa had twisted the circumstances against him, pointing out that if he went then there was a better chance that Madeleine would as well.

He didn't bother knocking on Madeleine's door, just opened it and strolled in with impatience, lucky that she now left it unlocked since they'd grown closer together. The quicker they left, the quicker he would be able to return and do what he really desired; work on the runes.

The two hadn't spoken since they had admitted loving each other in the early hours of the morning and then cuddled until sunrise. She had dismissed herself from his room quite early and remained hidden for the rest of the weekend, and even Effie provided no insight as to what she was up to. It had left Draco feeling sick and anxious that perhaps she had regretted their newfound connection but there was little to be done about it other than wait to see her again.

That morning she was sleeping with so many pillows around her that he almost didn't notice her in the plush white bed. He approached her dreaming form, wondering if she was faking being asleep after he'd so loudly barged into the room. He stared down at her like a creep, standing tall above her bed in silence.

She looked like a tiny doll in her little blue slip. Her silky white hair was slightly messy and partially covering her face. He noticed for the first time that she had very tiny freckles on her nose and cheeks. She was adorable, and it was enraging how much he longed for her. He picked up a satiny pillow and smacked her with it and she sat up rapidly and ripped him down to her face by his tie, her wand shot far into his jugular.

"Good morning," he lazily said from where his nose was now shoved into hers, her panting filled the space between their faces.

"Ugh," she let him go in a huff and laid back down into her pillows in irritation, "Get out of my room Draco, de sun isn't even up." She put a pillow over her face as though if she couldn't see him then he'd simply vanish.

"What time are you going to work?" he snapped at her in a dark voice.

"None of your business," she curtly dismissed his inquiry.

He sat stiffly on the edge of the fluffy bed as though it was made of spikes, "My mother has threatened me that I must accompany you. Today. To speak to Granger about my memories. So what time are you going?"

She groaned loudly, "Eight. Let me sleep, et es only six-thirty." Her voice came out muffled from where she was hiding underneath the cushioning of the pillow.

He was far too awake to go back to sleep. He was an early riser by a long shot. His eyes began taking in the dimly lit room with confusion, now seeing it for the first time in any real light, "Why does your room look like a fucking cloud? You are aware there are more colors in the world than just blue and white?"

She ripped the pillow down and genuinely giggled, her hair stuck up in a messy manner, "Well maybe you should ask my interior decorator why 'e made it dis way. De bathroom is a whole other level of gold." It took him a moment to realize that she was looking at him funny to imply that he was the one who had decorated it.