𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

forty seven

The grief does not tire itself away. It is indestructible, impossible to be rid of.

It is like a plague, attacking wildly whoever that cares.

And Betty happens to be the one who cares unbelievably much.

In the middle of the night, while Betty lies awake, sweating beneath her expensive comforter that Narcissa had so generously provided for all of them, Theodore would enter her room.

She left it unlock for her siblings to come and go as they wished, despite being aware of how dangerous that would be, considering she stayed in a hotspot for Death Eaters.

But she suspects that Death Eaters had better things to do than to approach her room - they did not know where she stayed - , and if they did, she also kept her wand snugly close to her reach.

Theodore would ask her if she could share the bed with him. He claimed he could not sleep alone in his own because of the silence.

The siblings are not accustomed to silence when they sleep. Every home they lived in was noisy right before they went to bed.

They mostly shared a room growing up and they would be bickering or singing incessantly right before bedtime. And if they slept separately, the rowdy neighbourhood they lived in would do the job of disturbing the silent night.

Betty always agrees, because her mother used to agree to all of his requests.

And frankly, she found it hard sleeping alone in Malfoy Manor, too. The silence in the room always felt watchful, as if daring her to make a sound - to make it feel like the home she was used to.

The manor seems to like to keep its eerie peace.

This happened so regularly, Theodore stopped returning to his room after dinnertime, where they ate with their father and the Malfoys' - except Draco.

Narcissa mentioned that Draco never liked the option of eating with his family. If he could, he would always opt for the choice of eating away from his father, this one Betty knew certainly.

Few days after Theodore had made this his habitual routine, Josette begin wandering into Betty's room before their bedtime.

Betty invited her to lay on her bed with them because her sister kept pacing back and forth the room, rambling about things as if stalling for time.

Betty's bed was big enough.

And soon, they had fallen asleep.

This became recurrent, too, though Josette tries to do it subtly. Betty has made space for her sister, has laid a pillow on the ground that would cushion whoever is kicked off the bed in the depth of their slumber.

Sometimes, Betty would wake up to crying beside her.

She would lay frozen on her bed until she realises that it is her brother who is weeping in his sleep, crying out for their mother.

He is losing her in his dreams, too.

Sometimes, it is Josette, who only lets out soft sniffles that sound like she has been through a rough flu. But none of them had fallen ill in the longest time.

Josette, Betty knows is definitely awake, because the girl dangles her head from the bed, tries to draw the tears back into her eyes, but fails miserably.

When they wake up, they do not speak about it, do not even think that the other two knew what they had been doing the previous night.

Today, the three of them are quiet as they make their way to the dining hall for breakfast. They are careful and slow with their steps, keeping an ear out for Death Eaters who could be heading to the same place they are.