𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐝.𝐦.

sixty three

A couple of days have drifted by and Betty's scar has become a thing of the past.

Obviously, it still prickles whenever she stretches it too much, but the scab has fallen off, leaving only the remnants of a lengthy shining red gash.

She supposes that is as best as it gets till it fully heals, leaving a bland white slanted line in its place. Now, that one is a disfiguration that will torment her for the rest of her life.

Thankfully, Draco looks past it. He doesn't disparage her, call it a blemish on her body. If anything, he hints at it as a sign of her bravery. Though he covets his true impression of it by calling her silly for her action, not wanting to encourage her by putting it straight.

Early this morning, the boy had departed her room with a lingering kiss on her forehead. She didn't try to get him to tell her what the rest of his day would be like, from past experiences, she has pronounced it futile.

He had made her promise that she would at least attempt to read a book, knowing well the stacks of them on her desk has been untouched for very long.

She finally relented, determined she wouldn't let the shackles around her wrist take away her love for reading, even though the sound of it clinking with her every move does drive her frustrated enough to give up.

Reading with noise is not her forte, especially since the noise is brought along with the incessant reminder of her entrapment.

Her eyes have only barely reached the bottom of a page when, as it does everyday, the door swings open with a loud, shattering bang.

It always happens when either one of her siblings pop by or even Draco himself trots in during the day, so it was only a matter of time before she gets used to it.

"Back so soon? I - " Betty begins from the pillows she is sitting on atop the threadbare carpet near her desk.

Her voice catches immediately and she almost chokes on her own tongue at the sight of the figure standing by the door. A peril rush of blood races around her heart, making the sound of her heartbeat reverberate through her whole skeleton.

Together with the dark wizard, a hissing sound sneaks into the room and Betty's eyes grow wide witnessing the massive snake engulf her gateway to escape as it glides into her room on its belly.

Once the both of them are through the threshold, the door snaps shut on its own, making Betty jump with even more fright.

She has seen Voldemort up close numerous times, but back then, she is always in the shadows of a group he is addressing. This time it is much different. It is just him and her, and the snake with its slit-like eyes, drilling cold daggers into her.

Her legs have acted on impulse, standing up and dropping the book she has been holding, where it bounces off the pillow and lands on the rug.

Betty feels stiffly indisposed under the wizard's measured scrutiny. His callous eyes graze her from head to toe, and his lips curl with clear contempt.

She doesn't know what to do with herself. Should the gall of her speak to him before he even regards her? Or should she be greeting him and bowing like all the other death eaters do? As her brain spins, her body is rigidly still.

"I wonder..." the Dark Lord says amidst the conflict in her head. "Is it true that you're allied with Harry Potter? Looks to me like you've come to flourish on our side."

Betty looks at herself, attempting to see what veil has brandished in front of his eyes such that it is deceiving himself into believing she looks like one of them.