The Story of Charlotte Kington: Love So True

Chapter 8

Readers:

Ahh. This is the first peace and quiet I've had all day. What a wonderous sound. Quiet. Haha.

Well, for everyone who reads this, could you please recommend it to your fellow friends and fans here on Wattpad? Please and Thank You. Enjoy the chapter!

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

I opened my eyes groggily. I sat up, brushing the strands of my blonde, wavy hair out of my face. My face was still wet from my crying session hours before.

          I looked at the wooden grandfather clock that stood in the corner of my bedroom. It was nearly four-thirty in the morning. I sighed heavily, stretched my arms out in the air, and got up out of bed lazily.

          I looked down. I hadn’t even changed into my pajamas. I walked over to my dark, oak dresser and pulled out a baby blue tank top and long, cotton, white and baby blue striped pajama bottoms. I slipped my pajamas on silently. I gazed around my room, taking in my surroundings.

          The walls are scarlet, with diagonal patterns of golden Gryffindor lions across them. The polyester curtains were the same color, they hung on the sides of my dome-shaped window. The sky was dark and filled with trillions of stars, with no cloud in sight.

          My bed frame and dresser are both a beautiful dark oak. On the surface lay a few pictures of my past. One with a metallic, dark gray, oval frame had the picture of Hermione and me when we were just six years old. Both of us had lost a couple front teeth, not to mention how small we were, and our curly, bushy hair. It was when our parents and we had gone ice-skating. We both were heavily bundled up in long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, heavy coats, hats, and gloves. This picture was unmoving, of course, since we weren’t informed yet that we had magical blood thriving through our child veins.

          The other picture are of my Mum, Dad, my eldest brother, Charlie, my eldest sister, Christine, and me.

          I picked this picture up and examined it closely. Oh, my mother and father still looked so young, even when nearing there middle-aged years. They both had hints of laugh lines. My mother, her hair the same, dark brown color of my brother’s, and the same color eyes as mine, stood to my sister’s right. Her smile was perfect, my father’s as well; their teeth white and sparkling, of course, since they were dentists.

          My father stood beside my Mum, very tall and his broad, well built chest and arms standing out still against his dark sweater. I remember Mum telling me about how all the young female nurses or interns would always gawk at him, starry-eyed. His hands were placed on Charlie’s shoulders, while me, the six year old I was, sat upon my Dad’s shoulders.

          Christine and I had the same color hair as Dad did. Blonde. Charlie looked exactly like the early-teen version of Dad, and now the resemblance is impeccable. Oh, how I do miss my family.

          I placed the picture back down where it was. I turned my back to my dresser, not wanting to reminisce anymore. Instead, I focused my attention to the rest of my room.

          My bed covers are a comfy silk, and scarlet, of course. In fact so comfortable, you wouldn’t want to ever get up out of bed. My pillows are white, fluffy, and have indentions where my head had lay during my slumber. All of this seemed familiar to me except for one thing. My book was gone.

          A book, or two, would usually be somewhere in my room. But, it, sadly, was nowhere to be found at the moment. I clasp my hand on my forehead and closed my eyes.

          Madam Pince is going to have a fit.

          There are several signs that hang around in the library that clearly warn in big, bold letters, “IF YOU LOOSE OR RUIN A BOOK THAT BELONGS HERE YOU WILL SUFFER SEVERE CONSEQUENSES.” Consequences meaning detention, and that would not look good on my record.

          I have to keep looking for it. I cannot, and will not get detention, ever. So, I crouched down on the floor and began looking under my bed. It wasn’t there. I scavenged through my dresser drawers, my nightstand beside my bed, and even in my covers. It wasn’t any of those particular places either. Now, for the second time, I’m going to have to search through the common room.

          I creaked open my door, peering over the side. I sighed in relief. Malfoy was in bed. I walked down the stone steps quietly.

          I then spotted a book that was lying on top of the mantel of the fireplace. I practically skipped over to the mantel. I picked it up and read the title.

          Ugh, it was just a bloody Arithmancy textbook. I placed it back down on the mantel grimly. I glanced down at the table that sat in between the fireplace and couch. It was littered with books, parchment, quills, and ink bottles.

          “What the…?” I muttered before looking at what was on the couch.

          Malfoy was lying on the couch, asleep. His platinum blonde was untidy. His eyes had deep, dark circles under them that made him look exhausted. And, oh no, he was shirtless. Muscles rippled through his abdomen, chest, and upper arms. He had jade-green, silk-long pajama bottoms on. But, all in all, he looked quite peaceful.

          Quit it, Charlotte! You do not like him! This is Malfoy you’re drooling over right now! Said a stern voice inside my head.

          Oh, you know you like him. Said another voice.

          I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I silently tip-toed to my room and grabbed the quilt off of the end of my bed that my grandmother had given me before she passed away.

          I took it with me back into the common room. Once I reached the couch, I placed in gently over Malfoy. Suddenly, his eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing his amazing grey eyes.