𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

forty three

Betty is off on a stride along the hallway to alleviate her anger. She has to work out a way to keep her mind off her sister's silly defiance.

She does not get far before she crumples herself into a ball against the pillar numerous feet away from the doors of the library.

The hallway's walls are ruptured with large windows with no glass, allowing students to stare out of the building directly into the cloud and forest that lies beneath the school.

Periodically, students would stick their legs through the gaps, swinging them in freedom. Betty recalls the times when she would do precisely that with her three friends, now vanished from sight and on the run.

That recollection brings nothing but more sombreness to her as she stares blankly into the distance of the fog spreading over the school.

"Comforting, isn't it?"

Betty raises her head from her arms, suppressing shivers at the familiar voice.

The boy leans forward meagrely, looming over her like a shadow. His eyes are a light grey, swirling with concern as he looks down on her.

"You can't deny it, you were following me this time," she says, forcing bitterness into her voice, when really, there is not much rancour she feels for him at this instant.

If she is being honest, she was really hoping he might show up. It is his arms she wishes to lie in right this very drab second now, she catches herself thinking, then brushing aside viciously.

"Couldn't help it," he says nonchalantly, angling himself lower so his eyes meet hers. "I noticed you were in a sour mood from earlier."

"I am," she says curtly, "So go away."

He lets out a breath, sounding fleetingly amused, then shifts on his feet. She thinks he might actually leave, but instead, he decides to dust the floor opposite her, nose wrinkled in disgust before sitting against the other pillar.

"Make yourself comfortable, why don't you? I was just leaving," she says hastily.

Draco shrugs.

Despite the voice that tempts her not to, she jumps to her feet, feeling regret start to set in on her as she does so. If only she were less stubborn and strong-willed like he always calls her.

"Oh, come on," he chuckles pleadingly, "I'm not even invading your space. I'm sitting so far away."

"No, but your arrogance takes up the whole hallway. I can smell it even from a mile away," she tells him, avoiding the smile that threatens to beset her face at the image of the one that already is plastered on his.

He stands swiftly, sauntering behind her as she begins marching off in a flurry. "Where are you going? The room of requirements?"

"My dorm. Where I might have privacy," she answers him, without looking back. "Don't you have a Quidditch match to get to?"

His footsteps trailing after her are enticing. "Doesn't start till five."

"And you don't practice? Madam Hooch'd be utterly disappointed," Betty says, her heart quickening in her chest.

"Doesn't matter to me. It's already our last year - winning doesn't make much of a difference anymore," the boy says after her, "Besides, I don't need practice to win."