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 �...
this chapter narrates flashbacks from the past chapters (nineteen and twenty), from Draco's perspective.
T H I R D P E R S O N
As a Quidditch player, Draco's limitations were always tested.
On normal days, Flint would only give them one or two breaks in between hours of training; a week before a match, he would make them practice until they were crawling on the ground—and mind you, this was after a long day of school. Not to mention the humungous pile of homework that awaited them in their dorm rooms.
But his grades were consistently above average and he was a remarkably great seeker who had won hundreds of points for his house. Therefore, he would be confident enough to say that his stamina was indeed strong, and that he didn't get tired or burnt out easily.
But even someone who had trained for hours on end would still wind up exhausted, rested in a deep sleep, and with an open mouth that expelled loud snores after having that much sex—strenuous sex—in one night.
Perhaps Draco lacked a few more hours, or maybe there was an exercise he wasn't able to do, because right now, he wasn't snoring, he wasn't rested, and he was most certainly not in a deep sleep. But he sure was exhausted.
5:01. He peered at the wall clock with his bloodshot eyes.
We finished at around 2, he assumed, and since then, he hasn't gotten a single ounce of rest.
He let a low sigh escape his mouth as he faced the ceiling. He had every reason to be tired—but every time he closed his eyes, his brain reminded him over and over again of the girl that was beside him. Her scent didn't help either, or the sound of her breathing, or her hand that occasionally brushed against his sides whenever she turned in her sleep.
It was the first time he let a girl sleep in his bed.
But wasn't his hatred for it that kept him up. In fact, he didn't feel uneasy having her all over his sheets. Rather, it was the certain feeling that bubbled inside his stomach that bothered him, one that he surely wasn't used to.
He tossed and turned but to no avail; the feeling wouldn't go away. It made him all jittery, and he would end up keeping his eyes open and turning to watch the girl beside him sleep calmly instead.
He perked his elbow up and rested his face on his palm, eyeing Clementia fervently for the umpteenth time tonight, not only because he had nothing to do at five o'clock in the morning, but because of his fascination of watching her sleep.
