entanglements | d.m.

61.wolf&fox

March '99 | H E R

"What are we doing?" Devyn asks, meeting shimmering silver eyes when they walk back to Hogwarts, but not to the castle. The Quiddtich pitch. 

Draco picked her up from work at lunch and hasn't given her back since. When they discovered that they haven't gone on a proper date yet as... them, Draco made quick remedy by taking her to their spot in Hogsmeade. Quiet, reclusive, moody—it was perfect and a healthy dose of reminiscent. 

Sure, he brought her lunch from there on a weekly basis, but sitting in the ambience, at the same table they did back in fifth year, felt like a part of them.

His eyes crinkle at the edges from a smile as he questions back, "What do you think we're doing?"

"Draco," she holds him back by the hand, because that is all they seem to be doing lately. Holding his hand... gosh, she likes feeling it. With a sole look, she tries to convey what she can't put into words for fear of sounding like an asshole and a loser.

"Just an hour, and I promise I'll leave you alone for tonight," he says, because he knows her too well and is, as always, beyond considerate.

He will stay away because he holds true to his promises and staying together in immediate vicinity will result in the most alluring, mind-boggling distractions, every single time.

They can't be trusted. He knows it.

And for that alone, she just wants to smother him in her love until he knows just how much she feels for him. Something she fears she might never be able to fully convey.

"I don't want that either," she pouts, hearing the contradiction.

Smiling indulgently, he pulls her into his chest right at the entrance to the pitch. "One hour, please?"

She lets him kiss her nose before pushing away, only because because he's being so responsible. "What have you planned anyway? I can't fly for shit."

"I'll teach you."

A yell cuts through the air then, coming from the pitch, and just like that, Devyn becomes aware of her surroundings and all the other hollering and flying students. It should be concerning how the world fades out when she's looking into shining bright silver eyes. 

"They're training," she says, somewhat hoping that this will close the case.

He shrugs, starting to move for a door in the entrance tunnel. "They'll just need one half of the pitch."

But one player is already descending, the green Quidditch robes confirming that it's the Slytherin team. His eyes have that stern look as they bounce between Devyn and Draco. "Malfoy you can't be here."

"We won't bother you," he replies, brushing off who must be the captain, and opens the door to the broom closet.

Just as the presumable captian steps forward and opens his mouth to retort, another player lands.

"Devyn?" Malcolm asks, gaze darting between her and Draco, a mix of confusion and accusation. "What are you doing with that bloke?"

Draco spins a full ninety at that, brooms forgotten to argue. "That bloke is her boyfriend so please mind your business."

Boyfriend?

"Boyfriend?" Malcolm asks, hurt flashing in his innocent eyes, and Devyn feels shitty, even when she had made very clear after Valentine's that there is never ever anything going to happen between her and Malcolm.

Because he is a goddamn child.

Adorable, but a child.

"Positive," Draco nods, "so I'd say you pack in your charades."