𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

fifty five

Every time Betty closes her eyes, she sees the family.

Not just the shadows of them under the about to tumble down building - she imagines her face, fabricates how they would look like staring at her with hope.

She never thought she could be any more traumatised, staying in this prison where everyone has done things more vile - but she feels as though she is the worst villain.

For not rescuing them.

For having been caught off guard for that minor second, allowing her strength to fade.

So she replays the scene on her own accords, hoping for a different outcome. But her mind haunts her with reality.

A pulsing courses through her head, in the middle of her eyebrows, forcing her to open her eyes. Taking in her surrounding, she notices that she is alone in Draco's room. He hasn't returned.

Sleep recently is very imperative to the girl, considering how rarely it comes. When she closes her eyes, tries to make her brain go to rest, all she feels is an everlasting remorse and pain.

Needless to say, it hasn't been easy sleeping alone - so she chooses well to sleep in Draco's room, feeling much better nestled in his arms.

She doesn't know how it had happened, only that the night following the incident, she tried to sneak away back to her bedroom. But she couldn't last a minute isolated. There were voices in her head, reproaching her, testing her will - so she decided it wasn't healthy to be alone.

Thankfully, when she crept her way back into Draco's room, he was still fast asleep, lying on his side, shirtless. Yet still facing where she should be sleeping next to him.

Tentatively, she had crawled into bed with him, reclaiming her side of the bed.

Her judgement told her that it wasn't the best place to be, they hadn't sorted out their differences yet - most of all, she had yet to forgive him for breaking her heart back then - but she couldn't think of anywhere else she felt safer than in his arms.

Since then, she has just been residing in his room, too weary everyday to leave it.

Draco likes them the way it is. He enjoys her company in his bedroom, it brings out a sort of glow that completes his morose room. Frankly, he misses her rosemary scent.

Anxious to not drive her away, he has been very sensitive and patient with the girl - more so than he has ever been with anyone else.

It has been almost five days.

Early this morning, when Draco left the room but not before pulling the sheets up, over her shoulders, Betty had pretended she was asleep.

Truth is, she had already woken when dawn was still grey. She couldn't fall back asleep after hearing the rustling of house-elves scramble around the hallways outside.

She hadn't noticed their presence before since they only dared to roam the manor and do their chores past midnight and before dawn, choosing to steer clear of any of the wizards, including their own masters.

These days, Draco and Betty have spent most of their time biding in his bedroom. She practices spells that Bellatrix had taught her, sometimes even revise the things she learnt from Hogwarts. Magic helps her take her mind off of daunting memories.

Meanwhile, Draco reads. Lying strewn on his bed, lanky legs dangling off of it, he pretends to read but Betty can feel daggers of his heated stare boring into her.

She supposes today will be no different.

They never really talked about them - or what would be them. But that adversity is cured with cuddles and kisses. She supposes that this isn't healthy, but she is hoping that with time, she might find it in herself to forgive and forget.