entanglements | d.m.

33.nightfumbles

December '98 | H E R

Devyn can't believe she is writing it down.

Expect a guest. Draco Malfoy, to be exact.

Devyn may have successfully swerved any questions regarding who it is she is 'about to marry' thanks to the Law being spread in papers at the start of term, but she fears this little heads-up has given it away.

Surely, Devyn wouldn't invite her ex-whatever after that summer. Not after that spur of the moment haircut. Not after the tears and the therapy because her mother was at a loss trying to help her.

Malfoy and Devyn agreed on spending the holidays at each other's-well, agreed only so much. It was less of a choice but so long as Devyn is with family, she doesn't care.

The second half of winter break, she doesn't like to think about.

"You can still visit me," she tells Tarquin, folding the letter before stuffing it in an envelope.

"I'm not sure I should," he best friend groans, putting his own written letter on top of hers.

Much like Devyn, he procrastinated simply writing to his parents to inform them of an added visitor. A week later, they decided to tackle it together.

Tarq readjusts on the beanbag they share, letting his head rest on Devyn's lap while sprawling his legs on the beanbag Michael is sitting on.

"I really don't want to bring her home," he complains. "Why don't I have a cottage of my own?"

"Maybe she'll make your stay only half as miserable," Devyn suggests, combing his hair.

"I doubt it," he grumbles, ready to sink in a very bad mood. "And how am I supposed to entertain her anyway? I hate hosting guests and being a guest."

"You're guest at my home."

"I'm part of the family more than I am at my house," he snips back.

He is right with that. "You could always show her the smokeshow that is yourself."

He looks up at her questioningly.

"Sleep with her."

His face pulls into an experession of pure disbelief. "Madwoman."

She doesn't know who he means, Devyn or his hot roommate, because Pansy is undoubtedly attractive.

"You know what I've noticed?" His eyes lift to hers. "You and Pansy kind of have the same hair."

"Take it back," he demands, deeply disappointed that he has to live with the knowledge now. Very much so, he has to sit up, demanding, "Take it back."

"If only I could straighten your hair..."

"Stop."

"You have these waves-"

"Devyn," he pleads.

She chuckles. "What is so bad about it?"

"Her hair is prettier," he says. "Much more sophisticated. I'm a mess."

"You're more than adequate," she assures, brushing his hair away.

He looks across the room to the Slytherin princess who is currently playing cards with Greengrass, a sigh deflating his chest. "Now I'm never going to unsee it."

"You could cut your hair."

"What's the matter with you today?" His head whips to her, outrage lining his face. "My hair is my entire personality."