𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

sixty

Betty wakes to the feeling of disappointment unfurling in her chest when her eyes meet the chandelier of her own bedroom.

Even life doesn't want to relinquish its grip on her - she is always going to be stuck in this dismal prison, is the first thought crosses her head.

That depressing feeling soon subsides when sunlight creeping through the cracks of the recognisable curtain feathers her skin and she feels momentarily hopeful that what had happened might have been a vivid nightmare.

But again, that hopeful feeling she so well needs, dissipates quickly when she moves her hand to wipe the sleep from her eyes, and find that she is unable to.

Metal clanging against each other greet her listening gruffly and she realises her two hands are being chained together, bringing about a clearer, bitter reminder that a prisoner is all she is.

She pulls herself up against the pillows by her elbow, unexpectedly, feeling a jolt of pain where her abdomen is, as if her skin is tearing apart with that meagre action.

"You're awake," the boy sitting at the desk in front of her bed stands immediately, his voice is gushing with pure relief.

Betty cannot say that she is happy to see him like he is, her. All she feels is overwhelming grief that the dagger hadn't struck her heart which might have been a hearty blow into death which she would have welcomed.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asks, without looking at him, still bothered by the chains. It doesn't seem anchored to anything, however, that part is odd.

His footsteps near her, and she hears the rustling of the bedsheets as he slides under the cover with her. "About three days," he tells her, putting a delicate hand on the chains as she tries tearing her hands away from each other. "Stop, please - you're only going to hurt yourself."

"I can't hurt myself more than I already have," she says sourly.

The silver in his eyes grow mild and soft. But it doesn't deter him from grabbing her hands roughly as she continues tugging the chains away relentlessly.

"Linny - " he tells her with more annoyance this time. "Stop it. It's futile. These aren't just your regular muggle cuffs. They've got magic in them, nobody without the key's able to free you and they absorb all the magic in you so you can't use magic to unshackle them yourself."

"Absorb all the magic?" Betty repeats, despair biting at her tone. "Well, that's settling."

"You need to be careful with yourself," he says gingerly, "You're still recovering from the stab you'd taken."

"I wish it would've just killed me."

The boy shifts on the bed, meeting her eyes with ferocity. "Don't say that!" His voice is loud and startling now. "You're already stupid enough to take that dagger. Don't take it a higher level and begin cursing yourself!"

Her throat rumbles with equal annoyance, but she decides not to say anything, letting him have his fill of anger first. She is acutely aware of his rights to be angry at her, it is foolish if she adds fuel to the fire.

Besides, he might be the only person in the manor on her side, she cannot afford to drive him away if she wishes to keep her sanity. Betty rather dies than become insane.

A bizarre silence befalls them before Betty speaks again, calmly, "How did they - how did I survive? I should've bled out and I highly doubt my father would've wanted to save me."

Draco seems to come to his own, but it is easily spottable that his anger at her doesn't go away as quickly. "Snape saved you. He was able to perform some spells that'd make the bleeding go away, heal your wounds, as deep as they were."