Bruised & Broken // D.M.

Chapter 87

Eighty-seven
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"You're okay- everything will be okay," someone whispered, grabbing the tear-stained face. Her eyes were still squeezed shut and her hands and legs shaking.

"We need to leave," he said and picked her up bridal style, apparating away in an instant. Amara continued to cry against the soft fabric brushing against her face, inhaling the familiar scent.

They landed in front of the door of the room they shared and Draco carefully carried her inside, slowly feeling her limbs stop shaking.

"You're safe now- open your eyes," he whispered, slowly setting her down on her feet. Amara inhaled deeply and tilted her head up to face the boy standing in front of her. His hand still laid on her hip, carefully stroking the fabric of her jumper.

"I'm going to shower," she said silently, turning away. Her head fell between her shoulders again.

"Amara-" he stopped her by grabbing her hand.

"I'm fine- thank you," she forced a smile on her face, squeezing his hand once before she disappeared through the bedroom door.

She slid inside the bathroom and turned on the shower only to slide down the wall next to the door. Her back pressed against the grey tiles.

Draco stood in front of the closed door, his forehead leaning against the white wood – listening to the dripping shower and her silent sobs through the hand that covered her mouth.

She tried to hide it but he could hear the difference. Malfoy almost pressed the door handle down to go in and give her the comfort she needed but then he heard her stop and step under the shower.

Amara let the hot water burn her sensitive skin, staring at her feet. She wasn't startled by the death. She was startled by the fact she almost died. That she was paralysed and no spell she ever read was able to rescue her.

She knew how talented she was, how easy it was for her to magic but today she froze. Her mind went blank and the only thing she was able to think about was her family. Her brother and all the things she never told him and Draco who still made her feel like she was on a cloud – flying through the sky.

It took her an hour until she came back out again, wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe. Her cheeks were coloured in a bright red from the heat in the room. The second Amara stepped out of the bathroom, steam followed her and she was greeted by the smell of freshly baked croissants.

Carefully peeked into the living room finding a small round table covered with a white cloth and multiple plates with food on top.

"I ordered you dinner," he said and Amara's head snapped to the sofa.

"I'm not hungry," she said with regained confidence.

"You need to eat-" he pointed at the table, no emotion crossing his face. A sigh left her lips. "Amara please-" he said, almost desperate and walked over to her. His hand on her lower back he guided her to the small table standing behind the sofa, "I didn't know what you wanted so I ordered all your favourite things."

"Croissants, mashed potatoes," he pointed at all the various plates on the table, "and of course most importantly waffles."

"No one can eat all of that," Amara protested, pulling the rope on her bathrobe tighter.

"You can try," he chuckled.

Amara huffed a small laugh as she sat down, "You know those are the moments no one would believe you're a murderer."