in the end ~ d. malfoy

Chapter Sixty-Seven

October 2016

DIANA MALFOY IS MANY THINGS, BUT SHE IS NOT A LIGHT SLEEPER.

When they were children, Draco had often referred to her as a polar bear, both due to her fair hair and her tendency to hibernate as though it's the dead of winter all year round. Diana has rarely ever found herself disturbed during the dark hours of her slumber unless she's sick or anxious — the latter of which has been happening more often considering her current predicament. But when something makes her stir awake on the early hours of October tenth, a sudden dark fear twists in her stomach.

It's then that she sees it.

At first, Diana thinks it's a trick of the light, an illusion caused by her own overactive imagination wanting to keep her on the edge between paranoia and terror. The early morning darkness doesn't help her vision one bit, and she can't tell apart the dresser from the wall. But as her eyes begin to focus, Diana can make out a dark silhouette next to Maya's bed. It's almost rippling in the dim light, the edges blurred and distorted in a way that seems as though it doesn't belong in this realm. As though it's nothing she's never seen before.

Something instinctual in Diana roots her to the spot, and she finds herself frozen from fear. The soft snores from Clarissa's bed don't cause Maya to stir whatsoever. In fact, the warlock barely moves, her chest rising and falling in the moonlight as she shifts just barely, her onyx hair spreading out on the pillow like a glossy curtain. The shadow is barely discernible, and as it shimmers, blurring in the darkness until Diana twists, reaching for the wand on her nightstand to cast some light.

But when she furtively looks over her shoulder, heart pounding, nothing is there.

Diana stares at the spot for a few moments, chest rising and falling erratically. She scans the room, soft light emanating from the wand in her hand. But nothing remotely moves, and doubt creeps into her veins.

Maybe it was just an illusion.

Casting one final glance around the room, Diana pulls the covers over herself as she drifts back into a confused sleep.

"Maya?" The tinge of concern in Clary's voice makes the warlock pause, her brush stilling in her hair as she squints in the bathroom mirror, "Were you missing a necklace recently?"

"A necklace?" Maya's tired brain fogs for a moment as she thinks back to the few pieces she brought with her to Hogwarts, mostly inexpensive fashion jewellery bought on her last trip to Mumbai, "I don't think so."

"I don't think this is mine either." Maya hears the sound of Clary's covers rustling, and she ties her hair back into a less-than-perfect ponytail, stepping out of the bathroom as Clary stretches her arms above her head, "Diana?"

"Huh?" The witch sleepily rubs her eyes, yawning as she knots her yellow Hufflepuff tie around her starched shirt collar, "What'd you mean?"

"You look tired." Maya mutters, noticing the more-dishevelled-than-usual state of Diana's hair. Instead of looking artfully messy — in that punk rock, effortless way that Maya can never quite manage — she looks genuinely exhausted, faint dark circles marring the fair skin beneath her jade green eyes.

"Yeah, well—" Diana yawns again, rubbing her eyes as she groans, "I had a rough night."

"Diana?" Clary presses, gesturing to the floor. Maya's eyes follow her to the spot, and to her surprise, she sees the remnants of a silver chain on the floor. The metal glimmers in the morning light, a quality she'll never be able to afford, and there's a snapped cross pendant a few centimetres away, one that looks vaguely familiar, "Is this yours?"