midnight of the masquerade | d. malfoy

five ; sleeping beauty

Third Person POV

As sleeping beauty then drops her head against the armrest, completely avoiding the pillow, the prince finds himself aiding the girl.

Carefully lifting her head, Draco is briefly mesmerized by her appearance. He could remember her eyes - a light blue. Her smile - small, but often reassuring. Her hair - like a brown cape, which curls involuntarily.

Slipping the pillow out of her grip, and below her head; he gently places it against the comfort. But to his surprise, Alana then felt barren, without something in her arms as she tugged on his - causing him to drop on one knee. The action disgusted, yet amused the prince as he didn't withdraw.

The minutes flew past, and she then loosened her grip into nothing. Draco stood from his position, realizing as his princess began shivering, holding herself to warmth.

He - without thinking - rushed up to his dorm where he was met with twice the snores as Marion. The prince tears a jacket of his from the trunk, practically sprinting back to his sleeping beauty to cover her from the dropping temperature.

Alana gratefully takes the clothing as she melts into the sleek, black suit. Draco dropped his unknowingly raised shoulders in a relieved breath; retreating hesitantly to his proper bed.

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Draco's POV

The slight pierce of the sun's rays force my eyelids open in an unwanted manner. After a few stretches, I found it in me to wake up - seeing as Flint wasn't in his bed.

I dip the fronts of my toes along the wooden floor; the familiarity of cold morning temperature runs up the remaining areas of my body as I fight my way to the bathroom, my uniform in hand. Although it was the starting of the weekend, I had no energy to search in my trunk for something else. As a compromise, I left the robe - carelessly buttoned the shirt - and practically left the boots of my pants to sag across my shoes.

Exiting the common room, I made it my mission to find Marcus. It wasn't exactly a difficult task seeing as he mainly uses his time to practice Quidditch.

"Morning, mate!" He called out from above, a hand gripped onto the broom with the other wrapped around a quaffle. The breeze of oxygen flew past my vision as he soared down to where I stood. "So?"

His eyebrows lifted in an expectant state, only confusing me. "So, what?"

He shoved me lightly with his shoulder, and I stumble at the surprising action. "I meant, am I improving?"

"Well it would help to critique you if I actually saw you play, you dimbo." I retorted, earning a choking laugh from Marcus.

"What do you think of the whole dance?" He inquired, resting the quaffle against his ribs.

"Stupid and unnecessary," I answered truthfully. "But I'd still go."

"Why is that?" Marcus rotated, walking off to return the broomstick against the racks. He waits for my response as he places the quaffle inside its box.

"I mean, if nobody knows who you are - it wouldn't hurt to play with that advantage, would it?"

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