TEACHER'S PET || D.M

VII - P E T R I C H O R

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

!!TW!! Mentions of Azkaban, Parental death, Adult Dialogue

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

"I can't help falling in love, it's what I was born to do..."

-Bridgette Devoue

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。G L O R I A   *★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

The silk sheets rustle as she situates the diary closer into her lap. She slightly curls her toes into the comfortable fabric, a telltale scratching is heard every time she strokes the quill over the parchment. Gloria rolls her bottom lip between her teeth in concentration, attempting to get every detail of her diagram exact. 

Dark ink laid in gentile strokes on the surface of the parchment. A detailed graphic of an Asphodel blossom etched in hues from the grayscale.

Shifting in the mattress and a sleepy groan causes her to turn. A soft smile finds its way to her plush lips as Draco buries his face into the side of her thigh.

"Go to sleep darling," His voice comes out raspy and more of a mumble.

"In a moment."

"Now," Draco whines, wrapping himself around the brunette, littering open mouthed kisses all across the skin of her bare stomach. She hastily shifts in her place at the tickling sensation, the journal, at last, finding its place on the professor's bedside.

"Heavens! I've put it away- Stop tickling me!" She laughs, trying to pull him off her as he simultaneously pulls her into his warms chest. The cool of his argentum chain soothes her skin; a sensation she'd learnt to find oddly comforting. His lips kiss the supple span of her neck as his face nuzzles into the crevice.

"You smell nice."

"And you reek of overpriced cologne. It's suffocating." Gloria teases, raking her fingers through his messy strains of platinum.

A chuckle leaves him. His hands tightening their hold on her form as he lifts her to lay atop him. 

A pattering sound hangs in the candle-lit chambers. Vague shadows dance across the jagged coble of the walls. The occasional droplet or two of rain gracing the surface of their entangled forms. The distinct smell of damp mud akin to the air.

"What're you doing this Christmas?"

"Just dinner with mum."

"And your..."

"Father isn't allowed visitors," The timbre of his voice is low, just above a whisper.

For a handful of seconds, She says nothing. The absence of her father would drive the girl insane. Gloria shudders, simply thinking about it.

"Is it not worrisome?"

"What is?"

"Not being around your father for years at a time? "

"Darling, not everyone spends their lives in constant contact with their father."

"What's that supposed to mean," She frowns, lifting herself off his sternum to look up at him.

He lets out an apologetic sigh, "That isn't what I meant. All I'm saying is that not everyone's father is like yours and m'sure if mine was half the man Aeacides is; I would want to be around him more than I do now."

"I'm sorry."

"'s not your fault ."

She settles her head back on his chest with a sigh. The pair resumes laying in silence when Draco finally says something.

"What was she like? Your mum?"

The dreaded question. Gloria hated thinking about her mum. 

Rosalyn was so perfect yet so incredibly human. She was everything anyone would ever desire to have and to be but above all she was her mother and every time she thought of her, Gloria couldn't help but feel her mood color itself with hues of melancholy and mirth all at the same time.

Draco sensed her hesitation, "You don't have to tell me-"

"I would tell you something long and meaningful about her but the only thing that comes to mind is that she was my mum and somehow... that feels descriptive enough." 

*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。*★,°*:.☆:*.°★* 。

Thank you all so much for 12k!! I love all of you so much and couldn't be more grateful that people appreciate my work.

I know this was incredibly short but I promise I'll try to update more often from now. 

-Mischief Managed/*