The Cabin | D.M 18+

T W E N T Y - F O U R

.....the chapter we've all been waiting for....
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- BELLE -

I wasn't sure what happened after I was launched over Draco's shoulders. My senses were overwhelmed and I could tell that my body grew unbearingly tired.

My dreams were endless. A flicker of a flame. It felt more like a blink where I dropped into the snow and woke up completely different.

Shelled between a pair of strong, scarred, pale arms, my body continued to shiver. However, not only was I held in a tight embrace, the thick coat and robe of Draco's had been draped between us too.

And still, were we both shivering with our might at stake.

The storm was no laughing matter. It was easier to dismiss it when I stayed at the cabin. But now when I faced death at a regular occurence, it had worried me to the core.

Still, I wasn't used to being cradled by him although we had to accept the fact it'd come as a regular occurrence. Of course on the outside I acted like I hated it, and by all means sometimes I still hated it on the inside, but maybe not just as much.

The sheer factor of having no warming charms to cast, I really began to feel guilty for the muggles.

How does one survive in conditions as such?

My mind boggled with the questions I could and wanted to ask - now understanding the familiarity of Arthur Weasley's interest in muggle history and life.

Because everything they did was so peculiar. So odd. It was funny watching them live, unknowing to the luxuries that we had.

They had none of that. Disadvantaged, they were.

But nevertheless, no matter your riches, your trauma is your trauma.

Psychology worked the same.

And if you were beaten, ridiculed and abused, your mentality would be the same. We had our way of creativity and they did theirs. So it was no wonder that Draco turned out the way he was.

And further to say, never would I have imagined him hugging me ever so tightly to his chest, rubbing the edges of his pointers so delicately through my hair as he cooed his hot breath against my neck.

I felt safe. Somehow. Surprisingly.

In the envelopes of a satanic, psychopathic serial killer who'd originally show no mercy at my suffering, I felt safe.

Draco Malfoy made me feel at home. Like I had nothing to fear for. A rupture of confidence no one else had made me feel.

Like there was no need for a large pot of home brewed hot chocolate or a fancy cabinous fireplace to keep us cozy. Neither the complimentary view of the lake we had from the front door.

Regardless if I was freezing. He was cold too. We fought, suffered and escaped together.

Of course we used one another for each other's gain and at first it had been for pure selfishness and deviancy. It was sinful.

But recently it had felt like that deviancy had turned into an emotion only Voldemort would find discriminatory.

'Fuck sake you're still shivering.' Draco sighed, rubbing my arms before throwing more thin twigs into the fire pit. 'This snowstorm is far worse than I originally calculated.'

'Hello to you too.' I giggled, squirming into his chest, desperate to grasp onto any extra rays of heat that protruded from his skin or from the fire itself.