Meliorism

09 | the snitch

Chapter Nine

The dead of the night would typically be calming after a busy or eventful day.

I felt anything but.

After changing into a pine-green jumper and grey joggers from the wardrobe, I laid in bed for a solid hour, staring up at the blank ceiling. My head buzzed with a jumble of thoughts and memories of what was and what could've been.

With a frustrated sigh, I rolled off the bed and onto my feet.

If I couldn't fall asleep, I might as well attempt to distract myself until morning.

On the way back to the living room area, I hoped that Draco went back to one of the spare rooms. Out of the two, he was the only one outside of the loop. I wasn't in the mood to discuss the events that happened today.

The whole bunker was plunged in darkness, outside of the occasional candles hung on the walls. I have always hated the dark, especially when alone. My imagination would create monsters that studied my every move, inching closer whenever I blinked.

Slytherins are normally pragmatic in nature, which is funny since I always involuntarily think of outrageous situations in my head.

To save myself from the fear rising within, I began to rummage through one of the drawers in the living room. Blaise had to have some spare candlesticks somewhere.

"For a pureblood," Draco's voice slithered in the empty air, causing me to jump. I whipped around with a candlestick in hand, facing the newly-recovered boy. He stood a foot away, partially leaning on the wall. "You like to stick to mudblood tendencies."

I roll my eyes at his antics. "I left my wand in the room. What do you want?"

"Theo's room," he corrected, pointing at the right-hand sleeve of my jumper. In dark green embroidery, the initials 'T.N.' was embedded in the sleeve. I didn't notice the initials until he pointed them out. "What are you doing at one in the morning?"

His pale eyes glinted in the dark. Compared to yesterday, his skin appeared to be less ghastly and his hair wasn't drenched in sweat. Clearly, the homemade antidote worked better than expected.

"Can't sleep," I admitted.

He followed my movements as I lit my candle with a second source. I studied his clenched teeth and guarded eyes with renewed interest.

The atmosphere between us wasn't as friendly as before, but I wasn't sure what I did to deserve his new behaviour. For someone whose life just got saved, he didn't seem very grateful.

Surprisingly, he followed me into the kitchen and sat himself down while I searched the cupboards for teabags.

"What about you?" I asked quietly. When he furrowed his brows in confusion, I clarified: "Why are you up at one in the morning? Aren't you still recovering?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "I slept the whole day. I'll be fine."

A few moments later, I had finally settled down across from him with a cup of hot tea in hand. I offered to make one for him but he refused. The silence was incredibly loud, but I had nothing to say. Instead, I sipped my tea and studied the clock on the wall. It's been almost a day since I've eaten. A few hours since I've been without a home. A few hours since I lost another set of guardians.

If I had been told that I was cursed, I'd believe them immediately.

"I have been meaning to ask..." Draco broke the silence. "Did Dumbledore mention why he sent you away?"