Whenever she got sad, there was 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.
And on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.
Until they discovered something that only required both of them in the same room -- nothing else.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 �...
The bed was wide. Even wider than what I was used to—and every bed in the hacienda was either king-sized or custom made. No matter how much I rolled around, the mattress seemed to have more than enough space for my body.
The sheets were velvet, they were easy to tell apart from my airy cushions. When I moved my hands, they didn't sink—they glided across the soft bristles of fabric.
And it smelt nothing like home. Instead of lavender, candles, and flowers, it was wood, peppermint, and book pages.
And the sun didn't shine directly through the curtains, they were heavy and opaque. I could just imagine losing track of time, or even days, if they surrounded the room I was in.
Everything was so comfortable, I could get used to it.
But with too much comfort comes peculiarity.
Even in my slumber, I knew I didn't end up sleeping in my room last night, and I knew I wasn't alone. But the space beside me was too empty.
I knew I was with someone else, but the surroundings were too quiet. Neither chirping birds nor rustling leaves passed through the thick walls, not even sounds of breathing from beside me. And it was all too strange enough to wake me up.
Therefore, besides the comfort and the ache to stay spread upon the velvet sheets, I opened my eyes.
No clothes, no sounds, no sunlight.
No Draco.
I winced at the sudden pain as I tried to sit myself up, although I couldn't exactly pinpoint which part of me was hurting—my legs which were practically numb, my sore and red wrists, the weird heat on my neck, and the disappointment of not being able to wake up to the person whom I expected to see.
Letting out shaky breaths, I lifted my hand and removed the covers from my bare body, my skin giving an immediate reaction to the cold air.
I scanned the room in hopes of finding any piece of clothing. If only I hadn't left my clothes in the guest room after deciding to strip beforehand, I wouldn't be freezing now.
While I helplessly looked around his room, i've noticed a few things above one of his wooden drawers. A box of bite-sized licorice, a bottle of perfume, some of his rings, and an empty vase.
The vase was white and porcelain, some parts of it had cracks and discoloration probably brought by old age. I guessed it was antique, but I wondered why someone like him would want to keep an empty vase in his room, or if he was planning to fill it with flowers.
