Mahogany ; D.M

65 - departures

CW: dark themes, mentions of abuse
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The hours of the night passed by her despairingly, and she compelled herself to stay awake for every one of them. Knowing that Draco was bound to leave when he'd wake pushed her to stay conscious.

The very thought of him leaving while she was still asleep made her feel an incredible gut wrenching form of dread, nauseous even and she knew he would certainly leave without saying goodbye if given the chance. Anything to make it easier.

Because he might not come back. That was the reality of it and she was forced to face it against her will.

There was also the fear that she had dreamt his return and their entire night together and she'd wake to find herself still in Shell Cottage. It was difficult to tell if she was dreaming, having felt like she'd been floating the entire time.

So she stayed awake. This wasn't usually a hard task considering the amount of practice she'd maintained from it. But when lying in the arms of Draco Malfoy, sleep had never seemed so appealing.

There were no potions to take, no coffee around, nothing that could help to keep herself awake except the running course of her thoughts and the ticking of the mental timer. Her mind spun into a whirlwind of conscious stream, plunging far into a deep pool of her fears, abandoning Occlumency altogether.

But it kept her awake. That was all that mattered.

Regardless, she was instantly calmed when recollecting that he was there. Even if it was only for a few more hours.

She listened to the soft pattering of his heartbeat, the steady sound of his breathing, noticing how in sleep he looked exactly how he had before evil penetrated his soul. Forced him to become something similar to his father.

But he was nothing like Lucius. He never would be. She figured that there was too much of his mother's heart in him. He'd always strived to be like his father, when he was more like his mother all along.

She studied his face with immense depth, memorising every detail, every line and deeper blemish of his pearly skin, admitting him to her mind. She found it merely impossible to look away from his face, until he awoke, eyes fluttering half-open from slumber, falling upon her sleepless face.

"Were you watching me sleep?" he whispered, eyes drunk with fatigue as the left corner of his mouth picked up.

She shook her head, cheeks turning rouge as she tore her eyes away from his face for a moment, before giving in and looking back at him.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, blinking a few times to dust the sleep from his eyes. His arms fastened around her waist, the two lying so closely together he may as well have been inside of her.

"A while," she replied.

He stared at her for a moment, clearly lost in thought. His lips then curled into a frown.

"You didn't sleep, did you?"

She paused, now rather embarrassed with how pathetic she felt.

"I didn't want to wake up and—find you'd left," she admitted, preventing herself from looking him in the eye.

There was only silence to her reply. An uncomfortable one.

The ticking felt louder to her all of a sudden.

She could feel him slipping away again. His impending absence was torturous. So close yet so fucking far.

She rested her eyes upon his face, watching him pull on his reserve so she couldn't see the pain. Perhaps she couldn't see it, but she certainly felt it. Felt all of it.