entanglements | d.m.

17.justalittle

October '98 | H E R

"Who are you fighting for?" Devyn demanded from him that night, facing off in an untouched classroom, active battle happening behind the door. "Whose side are you on?"

"I don't know," he cried, desperation leaking through his voice as he was barely able to hold her eyes.

She reminded herself to breathe but her voice cracked anyway. "So what does that mean?"

He read the implication.

The very last chance she was giving him.

It's a tough spot to be put in, but with everything that Devyn gave for him, gave to him, this seemed only fair.

For a year already, she had been suspended in absolute uncertainty.

His teeth would have had to crack under the pressure he applied by grinding his jaw. She felt it without it being said. Saw it in his eyes.

His final withdrawal from her.

He felt lightyears away when he walked past her, without an explanation, without a goodbye or even an apology. And her heart cracked on that final thread that kept holding onto the last bit of hope.

Malfoy wordlessly chose the opposite side that night. Devyn spent hours—weeks, possibly, wondering when he fell that final decision.

Had it been clear to him before he stepped foot into the castle? Had it been when he got the mark and he kept her warm for a little longer? Had he known before he even went out of his way to claim her at the Yule Ball dance lesson? Or did he make that decision on the spot? Looked her in the eyes and saw something he didn't like? A future that felt wrong?

Devyn wondered herself stupid over it. More and more, it became self-deprecating, self-loathing. The fault had been her.

She, entirely, as a whole, wasn't enough for the boy she gave her heart to, continuously.

She wondered herself stupid until Tarq pulled her out of it as best he could.

And then—and then Malfoy throws her that little piece of information before her feet. That little tidbit she could have had a field day over.

Of course, him and his secrets.

In some ways it could be considered a kind act, to keep it from her, because Merlin knows the hope she would have clung to then.

Malfoy stepped in for her, and he took defending to a new fucking level. She cannot imagine anyone coming close to comparison.

Taking the brunt of a werewolf. A fucking werewolf. Who could claim someone did it for them?

Devyn can.

And he killed him? He had to, right?

Greyback is dead, as far as the Prophet is to be trusted. The news had been a relief to the entire wizarding world, but now... now Devyn could kiss Malfoy. Quick little peck on the back of his hand. Nothing too forward.

Because he was right, as much as hearing it was a proper punch in the gut. Like a rejection all over again. Nothing changes.

The Saving happened before the Leaving.

And still, it's hard to wrap her head around what had been revealed. To the point where she can't deny that she's looking at Malfoy a little differently. Just a little.

I'm getting a headache.

Tarq bumps her knee with his under the table. "The goddess speaks."

Devyn snorts when her eyes land on the rising headmistress at the high table.