𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑¹⁸⁺ | 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

9

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 | "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤."

ϟ

Confusion is the scattering of thoughts, as a flower scattering seeds in a strong wind, hoping that they will find soil and grow well. Yet when there is a job to do, when focus and attention matter, I need to teach my brain how to retread the pathways of happy memories, calm times, to switch on its own higher powers and take command of the situation.

"Meet me in the west garden after Vance leaves you tonight."

My psyche neglects to fathom any circumstance where meeting him would result in a good manner. Bewildered, my mind forms multiple scenarios on what shall happen if I choose to disobey Vance again.

Curiosity itches and itches at my nerves, intruding— convincing myself to go tonight, perceive what Draco might want, then return to my room.

The dagger is sleek, the wooden handle is polished and shined to perfection. No scratches, abrasions, or scrapes. When it is in my hand, the message engraved is clearly visible. Once it leaves my grasp, the letters fades away.

So, that is precisely what I have been doing for the past two hours. Releasing the blade onto the bed covers, then clutching it as done previously onto my hand.

The message fades then reappears accompanied by my actions. I, mesmerized, endeavoring to examine the type of charm Draco had casted onto it. I'm so fascinated to where I had discontinued my contemplation on whether I ought to attend to his request.

"Y/N—," Vance says. I distinguish his figure from the profound corners of my vision, situated by the door frame prior to striding towards me.

I don't dare to glance up at him.

Nearly gasping, I hadn't anticipated the measure of guilt my body would be propelled into. My vocal cords drown in the air, unable to form words— excuses.

What frightens me further is when he sets down a fluffy white creature on the edge of my bed. A small four legged mammal. It presented a heart shaped nose in a tone of a deep black, it's ears slumping to the side.

"This is Draco's blade, isn't it?" He questions, lifting the hefty dagger from its tension on the sheets. By his reaction, I assume the message does not appear when he is in hold of it.

"Y—Yes, he just placed it on my nightstand then left." I say. In technical terms, the sentence that has rolled from my tongue— it was a truth, a twisted, left out version of the reality.

At this point, my heart virtually races out of my chest. He has never been too strict about his rules— I have never given him a reason to restrict me further, until now.

Vance shoves the dagger into the front pocket of his navy button-up, as if it were nothing. "He is a strange kid. I'm not surprised."

The mammal I recognize to be the one pet not allowed within the walls of Hogwarts. I precisely remember a boy named Theseus Joesonburg sobbing with his back pressed against the velvet draperies in the Ravenclaw common room, his tears spilling past his cheeks because Dumbledore demanded him to send his pet back home.

"Is that your dog?" I question, minusculey pointing at the fluffy creature.

Vance takes a step forward, lifting the mammal from its position on the bed. "Yours, now." He delicately places it within the vicinity of my lap, "I'm at work all the time so I assumed you get a little lonely."

It's fur were as soft as silk, properly groomed. Now I comprehend why Theseus Joesonburg desperately desired to bring his dog to school— I imagine it isn't difficult to obtain an attachment to such a sweet pet.

"She was gifted to me when I was a teenager." He says, settling himself on the edge of my bed, imminenting into vision. Locks of his sleek black hair droop to his eyes, motioning his head to sweep them back. "After all these years, I haven't been set on a name."

"She doesn't have a name?"

He reaches his sturdy hand to gently stroke the fur on her back, chuckling briefly. "No, I dwindled from finding one that matched her."

Names are significant, us humans label others and certain animals with names that match their expressions, their appearances. It would not  be plausible to name an animal "bubbles" if it were as frightening as a lion.

"Aren't these things suppose to bark or something?" I question, kneading two fingers onto the dog's floppy ears, watching it's black lips peel open to reveal it's rosy tongue.

"It barked once, back when I first retrieved it." Vance explains, sighing with a hot splash of sorrow. "Then— uh— my father smacked her across her back once and she never barked again. She's a bit traumatized"

I sharply gasp, finally forcing my entire vision at him only to be thwacked with an intense emotion of dismay and displeasure. "You have— somethi— you have lipstick, right by your— um, cheek— by your bottom lip."

A sliver of a scarlet red, smudged by his lips. Conceivably, I should not permit myself to feel this overwhelming disappointment that is striking my nerves. He is— all things considered, a young, exceedingly handsome, billionaire. Individuals of all genders would be more than content to be at his beck and call.

Only a woman of class displays a color of scarlet red on their lips. I envision her to be fairly tall, pale, and petite. Perhaps she shall claim the name of Abigail? Madeline? Claire? Woman who bare those names always tends to be pretty.

"Listen— this isn't what you think it is." Vance claims, utilizing his navy sleeve to swipe the evidence off his cheek. "My co-worker, she kisses me on the cheek from time to time."

Even for me, someone so desperately in need of his attention and love, isn't adequately stupid enough to drown in his untruth. There are other woman in his life and that is a reality that I cannot do anything about.

"I don't want your broken dog." I say. Elevating the animal from my lap and passing it onto his, I refuse to look him in the eye, sinking in my own despair and dejection.

He sets her aside, signifying that he intends to leave the dog here. Vance hoists himself from the mattress. Sighing as he attempts to plant a kiss to my forehead, I swift my head to the side, refusing to allow him to touch me.

Staggered by my segregated conduct, he pauses in place, prior to striding towards the door. "I'll see you in the morning."