𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

thirty eight

"Wake up, lovebirds!"

Betty does not flinch to that deep, regaled voice, ignores it as she assumes it is part of her hazy dream.

But then, she doesn't remember much from her dream, only remembers the mixture of warmth and sweetness enveloping her, coaxing her to sleep - in fact, she still feels submerged in her dream.

A huff of wind blows her hair's edges, hurls them to attack her face, tickle her nose, and she wrinkles it to shake off the itchiness that feathers her skin.

She feels the warmth from her dream materialising, arms sprawled around her body, a heart beating slowly, languidly beneath her cheek, as the boy waking her up drones on incessantly. It is unbelievably realistic.

Finally, when her head starts to clear, and she remembers the events of last night, where she is, who she is with, she leaps out of her lulling sleep.

Blaise is staring at her when her eyes fly open, sharp features defined comically while another boy, Betty believes - despite the blur of her vision - is Theodore Nott.

The other boy, curly mahogany hair perched perfectly on his head, looks away from her politely, pinching the bridge of Draco's nose instead to rattle him -

Draco - whom she is sleeping on.

Whose chest she is laying on, even now when she is wide awake. Whose arms are comfortably wrapped around her body, like it was a natural occurrence. Who is sitting on a wooden chair next to her, that was last night, multiple feet away from her.

He still has his eyes pinched shut, despite the pestering of his friends, but she does not think he is asleep as he is feigning to be.

She jumps away from him, tearing herself away from his body's heat sorrowfully, feels the muscle of his shoulders tighten at the last bare touch of her wild hair sliding past them.

A laughter reaches the air in the room.

"About time you get your lazy ass up, Malfoy," Blaise nags, his arm straightened against the arm of Draco's wooden chair. "Even Betty's up."

Pale glimmer of light enter the room, shaped by the crack in the window, and prancing on the old, dusty wooden floor.

The sun looms over the hills, behind the clocktower, Betty groans internally as she realises that the night had passed her by, and it was already daylight, beckoning an entire day of trouble, she knows.

Draco's eyes flutter open, already looking vexed by his friends intrusion. Now, it is clear that he had not been sleeping at all.

"Enough, Blaise," the boy says groggily, stretching and picking up the jacket that has fallen to the carpet.

He had loaned her that jacket last night, but it had dropped in both their sleeps. She wasn't shaken by it, though, since she had other means to keep her warm - she was barely fazed by it.

He picked a piece of lint from his jacket while asking, "How did you two find us?"

"Didn't take much effort," Theodore replies first. Betty had initially thought he was too bashful or soft-spoken to speak. "We knew you were having detention in the trophy room with Filch."

"Yeah," Blaise pipes in, explaining further, "And when you didn't return before curfew, we thought something might've happened - so we went out to find you in the early morning, happened to heard a wrangle between Filch and one of the Carrow's - "

"Filch and the Carrows'?" Betty echoes blatantly, shielding her mouth with her hands as she yawns into them.

"Yeah - they got into a bloody squabble last night, all the ghosts've been talking about it."