Chapter 37

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Hullo- This chapter is long but it is one of my favorites. -kittyhawk


Draco threw the door open as soon as I knocked, and yanked me into his arms.

"Draco," I laughed as he spun me into his room, "It's barely been a day since you've seen me."

Draco closed the door with a simple wave of his hand. "I know," he said, his face buried in my hair, "But it felt like an eternity."

"Is that so?" I challenged playfully, running my hands along his shoulders. He was wearing an incredibly soft sweater; but even if he had been wearing rags, the feel of him in my hands was more soothing than any Ring of Ataraxy.

I heard a throaty scoffing sound in the room. I looked up and saw that Blaise Zabini was lounging on his bed, a copy of The Daily Prophet in his hands. I flushed, not aware of the fact that Draco was not the only occupant in his room.

"Please, don't stop your frolicking because of me," Blaise sneered. "I rather like the show." I wriggled free from Draco's arms, regaining my composure and crossing my arms over my chest.

Blaise swiftly closed the newspaper. "Thank Merlin you're finally here, Thorncroft. I thought he'd never get out of bed. In fact, you may want to check it for mushrooms-"

"Some privacy, Blaise?" Draco interjected, as one of his hands reached up to smooth the back of his hair. Blaise rose from his bed, not arguing, as he was familiar with hearing that request whenever I came around.

"I was already leaving." Blaise plucked his coat from a hook on the wall and threw it over his shoulder, swiftly exiting the room while casting a slightly irritated glance at us.

Before closing the door, Blaise quipped sourly, "Say, don't forget to clean up after you're done. I would like to return to the room without seeing mysterious stains." Draco chucked a book at Blaise, but Blaise anticipated Draco would do that and closed the door just in time for the book to collide loudly with the wood. Blaise chuckled to himself in the corridor.

"Ass," Draco said under his breath.

Blaise had a tendency to poke fun at us, and I got the impression that he hadn't quite warmed to me yet. "It was just harmless banter," I said.

"Yeah, yeah." Draco stewed with a frown on his face for a moment. "I just don't like how he looks at you."

I scoffed. I didn't notice anything at all unusual about how Blaise looked at me. "What? Come on, Draco, is any man allowed to look at me?" I said lightly.

"Not if they want to keep all their limbs."

"Oh, please, don't be irrational-" I stopped mid-sentence, noticing that something was strange about the room's scent. I grimaced. "Why does it smell like a Muggle train station in here?"

Draco had likely never been to a Muggle train station; so he didn't know what I was talking about. "Muggle train station?" Draco sounded slightly offended as I sniffed around, trying to place what the unpleasant smell was that I associated with London Muggles. The room looked as it usually did; Crabbe and Goyle's half of the room was a bit of a contained mess thanks to the House Elves, and Draco and Blaise's side overly neat and organized, thanks to Draco's peculiar affinity for minimalism. I thought the weird odor would be coming from Crabbe and Goyle's side of the room; but to my surprise, it was concentrated on Draco and Blaise's.

My eyes landed on a green jade ashtray, where four cigarette butts were inside, bent at frustrated angles like little white check marks.

"Cigarettes?" I looked at Draco under lowered brows. "Please tell me they aren't yours."

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