Book one of two.
Post war.
Odette Elara Viotto can't help but feel foreign in the place she grew up in, and seems to believably lie that she is coping like others around her.
After one dark wizard perishes, another forges- reeking havoc within the...
(!!TW!! Mention of death, blood, and s3xual content)
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This was the boy I loved. A little bit messy, a little bit ruined, a beautiful disaster. Just like me.
- Unknown
The girl couldn't sleep. She tossed a turned in her guest bed with every click of the large grandfather clock down the hall, groaning in annoyance as sleep would not succumb her.
It felt like hours spent staring at the roof mouldings, imagining birds flying overhead as they sung Odette melodies to sleep.
But sleep wouldn't come, so she tossed her legs over the side of the bed, heading for the door with the intention going to one particular place.
The halls were deserted, the silver moonlight casted shadows of branches along the walls of the manor.
She lifted her hand, hesitating before she knocked softly on the door.
The Viotto daughter always found herself being drawn to the boy with hair as light has the white of his eyes, like a moth to a flame, she always found herself stood outside his door.
He opened it with an annoyed grimace that softened ever so slightly at the sight of the girl, her green eyes shining mesmerisingly in the moonlight, a dancing show of verdant beauty.
"What is it, Viotto?" he scoffed, his voice groggy with sleep.
"I can't sleep," Odette spoke.
"What do you want me to do about it?" the boy mocked. "Knock you out?"
Odette looked away to hide that pathetic smile she had lately found herself wearing whenever he would mock her, it was stupid, something an annoying teenage girl would do when the most popular boy in the school would talk to her.
"I was hoping you would bore me to sleep," Odette smirked. "You have an apt for that."
The boy narrowed his eyes at her, though they soon softened as he stood aside, motioning with his hand to grant her entrance.
Odette stepped inside his room, glancing around a place so private she would never have thought to find herself in.
The walls were adorned with black wallpaper, probably costing more than some peoples whole homes, the majority of the walls were taken up by bookshelves— the classic mark of a bibliophile, a fanatic of literature and words arranged to form beautiful sentences. A tall, four poster bed took up most of the far wall, a mess of pine-coloured sheets were crumpled at the foot.
"Is it to your liking?" Malfoy asked as he closed the door. "If not, I can always kick you out into the cold."
"It looks very..." Odette began, searching for the word.
