entanglements | d.m.

34.ineffable

Summer '96 | H E R

Devyn hums a tune that has been stuck in her head since this morning. It played in the radio when she read the letter Draco sent her.

Just a week out of school and she feels like going crazy without him, missing those late nights of fooling around.

In four days he says he'll come visit.

Four days in which she has to tamp the persistent smile on her face. Her mum has asked who that is from one too many times as is.

She doesn't think it will be a formal introduction to her mother. Actually, Devyn doesn't like to think about it how his visit will play out. Maybe they'll just sit about on the hills. She knows a place or two for total solitude.

All day she's been giddy on her feet, unable to sit still.

The humming comes to a stop when she hears a knock somewhere. At least she thinks she does.

Again. From the window.

Holding onto the front of her robe, she feels her heart racing against her wrist.

While Barty never knocked—at least not that Devyn's aware of since she woke up to him already being in the room—this transports her back to that night nonetheless.

He can't be here. He's dead.

Dead.

For real this time.

But...

Lead by curiosity, she approaches the window hesitantly as a small Devil comes from the other side. Her heart beats that much stronger, taking on a specific rhythm.

No.

It can't be.

It sure is. Draco is at her window, hovering midair on his broom. She can only be surprised for so long until awareness overshadows it. Throwing the window open, she beckons him inside, almost pulling.

"Come inside, quick. The whole village knows me."

Once he steps in, as graceful as he ever is, she looks around to check for bodies. Living close to the village square has it's advantages but not right now. Satisfied to see no one, Devyn draws the curtains shut, and turns, right as he says,

"You don't have boys over often?"

Now, she's becoming aware that Draco is here, standing in her very room, looking so very handsome. She holds the sleeves of her robe to keep from jumping on him, but nothing stops the smile from blooming on her face, or from teasing back. "Besides Tarquin..."

His jaw clenches.

She wants to kiss it.

He looks at her, up and down, slowly, soaking in the semi wet hair, the bathrobe. "You don't walk around like this when he's here?"

"No, he has the decency to announce his arrival."

That gets a smile out of him, boyish—dare she say, sheepish. "I couldn't wait a day longer."

And then he's pulling her closer by the hips. Devyn lights up by the touch, still in awe that he is right here, smelling so good with his hair windswept.

But what catches her attention most is how much higher she has to lift her hands to smooth them over his shoulder. "Did you grow?"

"Did you get more beautiful?" he replies, voice dripping with honey, and while there is earnesty to his question, she pushes him back for the small part that teases, scoffing softly.