Devotion

Chapter 8

I started as I heard the sound of the bell.

"Evelyn, what-?" Draco muttered drowsily. We both seemed to fall asleep in the position we were left in.

I pushed him off me, scrambling to find and put on my clothes. Draco grabbed my shirt first, but wouldn't give it to me.

"Draco, come on, give it back!" I insisted, struggling to get it from his grip.

"Not until you tell me why you're in such a hurry," he said with a smirk.

"To get to class, duh! Didn't you hear that bell?"

"So? It's just history of magic, if there's any class to skip, it's that one," he answered with a shrug.

I glared at him. "I already missed two classes Draco, I'm not going to miss another one! It's already hard enough trying to catch up to your level!"

He held his hands up in surrender, letting my shirt drop into my hand. "Alright, alright. I'm just saying, you would be fine to skip history of magic."

"Well I'm not really the type to skip classes, Draco. It just stresses me out. I only did it before because I wanted to fix things with you," I said, buttoning the last bottom of my shirt.

He stood up and walked up to me, pulling me in for a gentle kiss. "And I'm so happy you did," he murmured as he pulled away.

I smiled, then turned around and caught sight of myself in a mirror. "Oh Salazar, look at my hair!" I cried, my eyes widening.

It had gotten frizzy from lying in bed, and was beyond tangled from all our kissing. Draco snorted at me. "It's not that bad," he told me.

"How can you say that?! Look at it! I'm never going to be able to fix this, we only have five more minutes to get to class!" I shouted frantically, searching for a hairbrush so I could make an attempt at improving it.

After a minute, Draco walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Let me do it," he said.

"But, how could you possibly—"

"Just let me," he insisted, and I looked into his eyes. There was a need there, like he felt he needed to help me.

I sighed but gave in, sitting on the chair in front of the bureau, which had an attached mirror. He gently held a piece of my hair up with his fingers, and with his other hand, pulled out his wand.

I sucked in a breath and my body tensed at the sight of it. "I won't use it to hurt you, I promise," he assured, placing a kiss on the top of my head.

I relaxed slightly, but still remained wary as I saw his mouth mutter a spell. Quickly but deliberately, he ran his fingers through my hair, his wand hand moving parallel with the hand in my hair. Kind of like one would with a hair dryer, in the muggle world.

I was in awe as when he left each section of hair, it was left perfectly curled, knot-free. Like I had just spent an hour styling it.

In two minutes, he was done. I was too stunned to speak. It looked perfect.

The warning bell stirred me into movement. Both of us rushed to grab our bags before darting out into the halls.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked as we speedily walked in the direction of my next class.

"My mother. Father was never around, so I usually helped mum style her hair while she did her makeup. It helped save her time, and Father was less likely to get mad then," he explained, looking at the floor.

"Did he get mad a lot?" I questioned, curious. This was the most I had gotten out of him about his life before I met him.

"He was controlling, I'll admit, and very insistent upon tradition and timeliness. But he also valued family a lot and loved us. It wasn't his fault that he got stuck in a cause that got much worse than he could've imagined, and brought us into it too."