SILENCE {Draco Malfoy X OC}

Beauty.

Severus lost count at this point.

He had been sitting in the kitchen since morning and Verena didn't even step out of her room.

He had been worrying about Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban and their new Dark And Arts professor.

Every time he passed by her room he would hear her irritated groans and loud curses.

"You little bit-"
"Verena!"

He slammed opened the door to find her with cotton papers splattered all over the floor one of her canvas stands were snapped which made Severus wonder whether he should waste more money on buying her another one.

He was prepared for this.

Her mood swings.

She woke up as if she were the definition of jubilance last morning.

But now she seemed to have been the cause of the havoc in her room.

"Do you want me to help you clean it up?" He entered the room, aiming to keep his voice soft and calm.

Verena dropped to her knees bringing her legs close to her chest.

She murmured something he couldn't make out.

"What is it?"

"The painting looks awful,"

He glanced at the portrait that was near her.

It was a composition of hands reaching out, with blossoming veins prominent on their wrists.

He couldn't see anything wrong with it.

"This finger," she pointed at the hand at the very corner, "the thumb looks odd, the skin isn't uniform,"

She proceeded to complain about every flaw of the painting.

He wouldn't have noticed a single one if she hadn't said so.

"It still looks marvellous to me," he held it up, "All it needs are your assurance about its beauty,"

Verena stared at it, restraining herself from ripping it into pieces.

"Come eat lunch, after that we're going to go but your supplies, or do you want to sit here all alone while I'm gone for hours?"

He smiled already knowing her answer.

"I'm gonna go with you,"

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead before walking out.

After a savouring lunch verena began rummaging through the clothes in her closet and drew out the dress Daphne had sent her.

The coffee tinted robe was like a flowy linen dress.

Styling her hair in a half-up French twist before pulling on her ankle boots.

Too much?

She felt nice and...decent in a new kind of attire.

She felt good.

"It doesn't matter who says what as long as you feel comfortable in what you're wearing that is all that matters," Severus says as she places away her dresses deep in her closet Narcissa sent her on the holidays.

"You don't have to feel forced to wear it, alright?"

"Yes, dad,"

"Verena! Hurry up!"

Rushing downstairs she adjusted the strap of her satchel backpack.

"Since when did it take you this long-"
He paused when he saw who was in front of him.

Yes, it was his daughter.

But......

She had her head down patting the skirt of the dress attempting to alleviate the wrinkles on it.

"Aren't we gonna go?"

"No, no let's go,"

Verena browsed through the shelves glancing at the list of books in her grip, dragging her nimble fingers along the spines of the books.

Peering up she spotted the book and reached for it standing on her tippy toes.

"Do you need some help ma'am?"

Verena froze, turning around, since when was he nice that goddamn slimy gi-.

The formerly slicked back hair was now altered into a bowl cut, making Verena wonder if her comments about his hair had knocked some sense into him.

"You're in the way," within a fraction of a second the sincere look on his face shifted to a sneer.

Ignoring his words she turned back to the shelves dismissing the book on the top she couldn't reach.

She'll come to get it later.

Yeah.

She heard his steps against the wooden floor and felt his presence behind her.

His chest skimmed against her back as he attained for the book and stepped back.

"Your father is waiting for you," he informed concealing his face with the book leaning against the shelf.

She gave a nod in acknowledgement before striding past him since he didn't seem to wish to see her.

Unbeknown to her Malfoy was pathetically obscuring her view from seeing his pink-tinged cheeks.

She was aromatized with cocoa butter and cinnamon.

A scent that would linger in a tea shop on a rainy day in Paris.

Walking out of the shop Verena caught a glance of the same book she was nearly going to reach until she was rudely interrupted.

It was placed on the counter as if waiting for her.