Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

19. masochism.

Absolutely ecstatic, Draco scrambled over and shoved the contents of his trunk back in from where they spilled had onto Hogsmede's cobblestone street. Then he tore off down the road, slipped through an alley, and sprinted for the castle.

When Draco arrived in Slytherin Dungeon, Evan wasn't there. He looked around her empty dormitory, confused, then realized it was Christmas Eve, so she was probably at the feast. He ran up the stairs to his own dormitory, threw his trunk onto his bed—but right before he was about to run out of the dormitory again, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above his dresser.

Goddamn, he had passed at least a few people on his way to the dungeons. And he had looked like that?

He had blood caked under his nose, light bruises forming around the inflamed red skin. He looked like he had just been bent-over by a centaur, his hair wild and his cheeks a flaming red. He took a moment to slow down, because he knew he would give Evan a goddamn heart attack if he showed up in the Great Hall looking like that.

He washed away the blood, ran his fingers through his hair, changed clothes, then applied glamours to the bruising. Then he wrapped his cloak and scarf around himself and practically sprinted for the Great Hall. He passed through the snowy courtyard, climbed a million staircases, but when he arrived in the Great Hall, the Slytherin table was completely vacant.

The feast was still on, though. There were sprinklings of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, a Gryffindor or two. All of the Professors and the Headmistress were sitting at the Head Table, pulling on crackers and laughing.

Draco made a beeline for Hagrid.

"Malfoy," Hagrid said in alarm when he power walked up to his seat. "Wha' are you doin' here?"

"I'm 'company.' For. . ." he coughed. Hagrid nodded.

"Far better Christmas presen' than mine," Hagrid laughed. "Got her a ruddy chess set. Gonna deliver it in person, I think. Make it more meanin'ful."

"Right, well. She's great at chess, anyway. So where is she?" Draco asked in a whisper, as Snape was sitting to Hagrid's left. Snape kept darting his eyes to Draco, confused and glaring.

"Dunno, she left just a momen' ago," Hagrid said. "Didn' wanna eat alone, suppose."

"Right, brilliant," he said, turning away. "Happy Christmas," he said, only because he was in a fantastic fucking mood.

"Oh! Alrigh'!"

Draco then tore out of the Great Hall, ignoring how every eye was on him.

Draco checked the Astronomy Tower first, thinking Evan might be upset and was hiding away. She wasn't there. He went to the library, checking the aisles. He considered going to Gryffindor, but he assumed that the Weasleys were gone for the holiday—so he didn't think she'd go there. Then he checked the boathouse.

Draco's face relaxed when he laid his eyes upon her, a smudge of black against the all-white winter sky.

Evan's back was turned. She was playing with the ice as she sat by the edge of the Black Lake, huddled up into her scarf. Draco walked up quietly, shivering hard. When he approached, he saw that she was absolutely covered in snowflakes. She looked quite peaceful there, like she had stepped into a landscape painting. Draco watched her for a moment, admiring the way she moved her wand, cracking the glass-iced lake, and the way she looked, her hair blowing in the wind. Draco released a hard breath.

"How lonesome," he said.

Evan whirled around and jumped onto her feet. Her face was absolutely priceless.