entanglements | d.m.

36.talks

December '98 | H I M

The next morning, Draco is startled awake by the sound of rolling. Over his head.

Blinking through the sleeping haze, he finds something hovering over his head, and in fear it'll fall, his arm shoots out for protection but he only ends up hitting his hand.

Biting back a groan, he holds onto the hurting hand with his healthy one as pain shoots through him. "What the fuck, Wood?"

Devyn rolls the drawer back into it's designated hole in the dresser, a sweater in her hand. "It's freezing. Don't mind me."

But he does mind and she loves it. She can be all nonchalant but the gleam in her eyes is pure victory.

Until he pulls her down onto him, his hand forgotten. He lies a bit lower on the air mattress than last night, meaning she's tipping down a bit and in her surprise, she didn't get a hold of herself.

Her chest is crushed against his, the tips of their noses touching. Her short hair falls around them, the fringe touching his forehead, her necklace grazing his throat, and these flaming amber hues are wide.

He wonders if that is because her heart is beating just as crazily as his. The pulse thrums against the pad of his thumb.

"I mind a lot." And he's not talking about a drawer. "Most of all, you."

Devyn stays just as she is, watching him, trying to read.

"You're wearing a shirt," she states, as if just realising. Then he feels it—her fingers tracing the neckline.

"I feel weird without one."

She draws back slightly, eyes tracing over his face. "Why?"

She's taking it the wrong way. "With your mother and brother under the roof? It feels most respectful. And it is freezing."

As if reminded, she scrambles off him and puts the knitted sweater over her head. "I think this room is my constant reminder to move out. In winter it's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Summer it's like a sauna up here. No charm works, I tried everything."

Draco leans on his forearm watching her move around the room. "You want to move out?"

"Toast and jam, right?" she volleys back, opening her door as her bed is being made by magic.

"Yeah. Now—"

She's already walking down the death steps.

Draco falls back onto the air mattress, his shoulder making contact with the floor beneath. He is lying in her very room and still, she finds ways to keep a wall up.

At least he can delight in the fact that she knows the breakfast he adopted this term. That she has been watching him makes him feel less pathetic for knowing her routine a bit too well.

She more but watched him. On glance at the other dresser confirms that it wasn't a dream. Devyn really did keep them. All three snitches that connect them.

He has to read between the lines here with her, and this is as much oversentimentally as it is care.

She cares about him and his actions. What he does matters, unlike Emrys Malone and his attempts to woo her. Draco shouldn't care that she cares. But as already mentioned—he minds.

He'll be his biggest enemy, because when he joins the small family downstairs in the living room, his mind goes down a very dangerous path. Like super fucking dangerous.

Devyn is sitting on the floor with her back leaned against the sofa and her brother Noah lounging with her between her legs. Both are immersed in something playing on the tv, her fingers combing through the boy's brown waves who is still in those elephant pyjamas from last night.