The Trial ; D.M

37

Fear gradually creeps in as Geneva assesses her current situation. Fear and dread. She finds herself caught in a web of secrets that are being spindled by those closest to her.

She tells herself that she doesn't need to know every detail of Draco's past. Convinces herself that none of it matters anymore. However, by being blind to the reasons for his actions in the past, she cannot fully understand the person he is today. The person she has now attached herself to in a permanently binding way. Her morality clashes with itself. Watches itself flicker and perish in the same way that parchment flakes into ash.

Each step she takes through the Manor and up to her bedchamber feels weighty, dragging herself tiresomely to solitude. She readies herself for bed mechanically, letting the pit in her chest grow into a sizeable, malignant mass. She stares at herself in the mirror, begging for her nerves to find calm.

There's a hollow knocking on her door, and the mass shudders, vibrating horrifically. When the swings door open, Draco steps inside, appearing sleepy and particularly pleased to see her with his possessive, fond eyes and blushing smile.

She aches.

"Was it so bad tonight?" he asks, firmly placing both hands on her shoulders, massaging her in a familiarly comforting kind of way. His eyes meet hers through the mirror, glinting with delight. She soaks that look in, implants it into her memory.

"We were kicked out," she smiles through the throbbing mass in her chest.

He releases an amused laugh. "How did that happen?"

"Elaine Cameron said some things... Theodore defended you," she explains, keeping it brief. When his eyebrows draw upwards, she nods in agreement with his surprise.

"Never would have thought."

Geneva hoists herself up from the chair without looking at Draco as she glides past him and over to the bed. He follows behind, watching her carefully as she maintains her nonchalance. She's trying to not make it obvious that her mind is currently at war with itself again. Trying to stop him from reading her and learning that something is troubling her.

"Did you find Crockett?" he asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, kneading his hands into his thighs. Her eyes are drawn to the feathered ink of the Dark Mark across his forearm, which slightly peeks out from underneath his rolled up sleeve. That irksome symbol branded into his skin like the scars marked from a white-hot iron rod. Forever stained and scarred.

"Yes, it's all sorted."

Draco nods in return, still watching her. She moves beside him, untucking the bedding so it's ready to delve into. But as she continues to busy herself, his hand halts hers and he takes it in his hold. And when she looks into his eyes, they speak for him with their lusty gaze.

He raises himself up from the bed, taking her face in his grasp as his lips brush over hers, kissing her familiarly.

"You've no idea how I've craved you tonight," his voice drawls with appetite between each kiss.

Geneva falls into it, kisses him back with as much hunger as he clearly possesses. She tries to relax into it all, tries to feel normal. But every thought that afflicted her only moments ago catches up with her and causes her to tense. Her body, her lips, even her breath tenses.

He notices immediately and pulls back, releasing her face from his grasp when catching her withdrawn mood. It happens so quickly, it's as if a shutter has just been pulled down on his expression; his eyes shadowing and dimming several shades. His jaw tight and clenched.

"What?" he asks, curtly.

She shakes her head, forcing a close-lipped smile. She takes a deep breath, hesitating. Resistant to go forth in her speech. Forces herself to form the words.