the girl who lost it all [d.m]

fifty two: maledictum

maledictum: curse, malediction, disease

———

ELARA didn't sleep the entire night.

She'd stayed at Orion's place, too tired to fly Lucifer back to the safehouse and he'd made them a delicious dinner of fettuccine alfredo, followed by pecan pie and wine—but Elara hadn't been able to get her mind off Draco.

She'd only been gone a minute—but when she'd returned, he had vanished and it was just Orion sitting on the sofa, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together, staring at the tray laden with pecan pie on the coffee table in front of him.

She'd understood immediately and had bolted to the front door to see if there was any chance she could catch him before he turned the corner of the street—but Orion caught up to her at the threshold and snagged her around the waist, telling her it was too dangerous to step out.

She'd retired to one of the spare rooms after dinner and had paced for what seemed like hours until she decided it was best if she tried to get her mind off Draco.

So she'd headed down to the library—and that was where she was now, sprawled on one of the armchairs, knees pulled to her chest.

She'd grabbed an empty sheet of parchment, a book to use as support and a quill before settling into the armchair and beginning to sketch.

It was late morning when Orion awoke and she could hear him bustling about in the kitchen, no doubt making breakfast—but she didn't move from her seat, focusing on getting the lines on the parchment just right.

When he finally emerged into the library, pushing the door open with his shoulder, a tray in his hands, it was already well past eleven—and there was still no sign of Draco.

"Morning," Orion chirped as he made his way over, Mochi trotting along behind him. "But I guess it's all the same to you, considering that you've been up all night."

Elara glanced up, watching as he placed the tray down on the table behind the armchair opposite her. "How'd you know I was up?"

He shrugged, straightening a plate of extremely fluffy pancakes. "I didn't—but I guessed, seeing as how much you worry over my best mate."

She heaved a sigh, turning back to her parchment. "He's still not back."

"I know." Orion sounded grim. "But whatever it is, I'm sure he's fine. If anything had happened to him, we'd know. They'd all be out on the streets."

Elara raised an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the nauseating knot of dread in her stomach and Orion went on as he piled three fluffy pancakes into a plate and drizzled maple syrup over them.

"If the Dark Lord had killed him," he said, "everyone would know about it—and a lot of people would be celebrating."

"Celebrating," Elara deadpanned, a surge of anger rising up in her.