The Cabin | D.M 18+

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TW: Toxic Draco<3

The morning after had been just as mundane as the day prior was. Cloudy grey skies, impregnated with rain water that threatened to fall into Autumnus mellows.

Draco had been silent. Ignoring me as per. Not that I was complaining anyway.

It allowed me to enjoy some peace thankfully, at least before his torments. I wasn't sure if I enjoyed the chaos he brought with him or if I preferred being bored out of my mind.

Both had their negatives and positives.

Although he brought some life to the cabin. It wasn't exactly the kind of crazy I'd hoped for.

Perhaps something more, wholesome and kind.

Maybe if it were Ron or Luna. Even Neville. At least they'd have far more interesting things to talk about. And they would be able to do it with compassion.

Something I could personally relate to. Because relating to an egotistic, centric maniac that has no desire than to shove his fist down my throat is probably not the most entertaining thing of my days.

I'm just glad that I had it to keep me alive for his sake. Because if I was nothing more than a boring witch to him, I'd be six feet underground and this cabin would have changed from McGarrishen residence to Malfoy.

Despite the shack it was and how no one of that nature would ever live under a bunch of twigs, especially with a name and hierarchy of that height. It would've been his.

So I'm glad it's still my home. Although he acts like runs the place. Which to be fair, he kind of does.

I'm just too scared to boss him around. Knowing the fact that he could kill me with ease, say one word and he could snap.

You walk on eggshells when with Malfoy. So being careful was more than a given.

Thankfully the kitchen and living room was scarce, his bedroom door still closed and not even a shuffle erupted. Delicate footsteps - he must've been well trained if he were asked to sneak around.

Helping myself to two slices of jammy toast, I slowly chewed my food, sitting on my left hand to ease the trembling.

With Draco being here, my insecurities were at an all time high and I was scared to show him anything that he could nitpick at.

Although he could literally look at anything and insult it. I still tried to minimise it as much as I could.

Show him a lump of clay and he'd already have fifty things to complain about. He was insufferable.

It's too sticky, it stinks, why does it get stuck under my nails- Oh it's making my hands dirty- SHUT UP!!

And I was enjoying the silence, the lingering whistles of the wind as it panelled against the windows and the crackling of the fire. All until I heard that swing.

The creak from the door opening and suddenly light footsteps became louder to my ear. Cursing to myself as I continued to chew.

Once I saw his tall frame come into view, I refused to turn my eyes to his body which now stood frozen at the island, facing me.

'Should you really be eating that?' He asked, a brow curled upward.

If he's indicating that I'm fat then he's one second away from having the jam flung at his freshly cleaned hair.