entanglements | d.m.

66.defensive

April '99 | H E R

Devyn sits with Tarq on the bed, working through a stack of flashcards for Herbology. The sun is sitting low, offering still yet enough light outside but casting its first shadows in the castle. Devyn flicks her wand to switch on the bedside lamp.

"I like this," Tarq says, sprawling like a cat at the foot of the bed, his feet hanging off one side. "You should have done this sooner. Was a pain to squeeze on the single one."

"Did you and Pansy morph yours into a double?" Last time Devyn knew, they didn't, but that was months ago, and since he is so unwilling to divulge details about his lovelife, she is reduced to read between the lines.

When Devyn mentioned the little situation at the door the morning after Blaise's fiasco, he assured her that he was fine, just too tired to answer the door himself. Any admission regarding his situation towards Pansy has been brushed off. Devyn didn't press him on it, her intrigue feeling more and more misplaced because of his avoidance while at the same time, frustration is starting to build about his secrecy, thin layer after another with every fruitless exchange.

But she has to remember, he was never quite forthcoming when it came to girls, only ever offered the general situation. Opening up about that part of himself is hard for him, but really, is it too much to expect some semblence of comfort after years and years of building this tight-knitted friendship?

He snorts, as if that's the most ridiculous notion he has ever heard. "No. The room devider is as sturdy as her willpower."

What Devyn is hearing is, "You want it gone?"

"No. How many times do I have to tell you I don't want her like that?"

"How do you want her?"

"No way," he mutters through clenched teeth. "I can't."

"So it's a matter of worthiness?" she deduces, feeling more disturbed and sympathetic the more she talks. "You don't think you deserve her? You know, Draco felt the same and I can tell you from personal experience, let the girl decide. It saves so much time. Wait-you seriously believe that, Tarq?"

He shakes his head, pointedly ignoring her probing stare. "I'm not doing this right now."

Devyn's frown deepens, and with blarring determination, she says, "But I am."

He stares at her for a good few seconds then, a sharpness in his eyes that cuts right through her. "Have fun talking to the mirror then because I'm not part of the conversation." To make matters clear, he sits up and scoots off the bed.

"Wait-" Devyn grabs him by the arm, desperation squashing tenacity, "don't leave. I'll stop, I promise."

Pressing his lips into a firm line, he regards her for a heartaching moment before relenting, lying back down.

The next half hour is pressed with a the sort of pressure of a stone in her shoe. It's only a matter of patience until you stop walking to get rid of the pain. Before Devyn runs out of it, however, Draco strolls into the dormitory, groaning, rolling his neck.

"Salazar, I'm sore." Dropping his Tunderclap aside, he comes up to her-limping, actually-and stops right by her side, leaning down to kiss her pertly and firm. His hand cups the back of her head, eyes glimmering as they sweep over her face. "Hello, gorgeous. The braids are pretty." His fingers slide down one of the two french braids.