𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 | 𝐃.𝐌

₃₂ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ

Sρσƚιϝყ ρʅαყʅιʂƚ ϝσɾ αʂʂαʂʂιɳʂ
ʅιɳƙҽԃ ιɳ ɱყ Ⴆισ
┈˃̶༒˂̶┈

Draco soon had to leave Ava all alone. Voldemort was planning the next stage of his war and he needed his best death eater and assassin at his side.

Draco had stayed with Ava for the following hour, taking care of her wounds and helping her as much as he possibly could. After she told him she almost took her life, a pain consumed his eyes.

He looked away from her, jaw tensed as he ran a stressful hand through his hair. He was glad she trusted him enough to tell him such information but he couldn't help but feel angry. He wished there was more he could do for her.

He felt useless.

Ava was half asleep when Draco announced he had to leave, she didn't want him to, the warmth of his chest had become so comforting. She felt so safe in his arms. But, against his own will, he had to leave.

Ava fell asleep straight after he departed.

┈˃̶༒˂̶┈

Ava awoke on the sofa. It took her a while to realise what had happened when she opened her eyes to see a beautiful apartment like room. She was unsure what time it was but the sun shining through the large windows told her it was morning.

She stood to her feet, groaning a little from the pain in her ribs. She used the back of the sofa for support as she moved toward the window.

The view was of the black lake and the bright green of the grass and the dark forbidden forest. It was like a war had never happened—wasn't happening. She then noticed a small camp with burning fires and flags, she didn't recognise ruffling in the wind.

She ignored the camp and continued to soak in the heat of the morning sun. It had been so long since she felt this type of warmth.

After a few minutes of enjoying it, she soon came back to reality. And she decided to explore the small apartment, which once would have been a classroom. Although — you could never tell.

The walls were still castle-like, the same as the large windows. There were paintings hung on various walls, making the space seem more homely. Besides the main entrance was a kitchen, that would have been built in. It was small but practical.

In front of the kitchen, which led into the living room area, was a dining table with fruit in a bowl and candles. And the living room had multiple dark Heriz-style rugs overlaying each other, over the hard grey flooring.

The bedroom area was hidden behind a dark sheer curtain, she moved it across to reveal a huge four-poster bed with a dozen pillows and hefty blankets.

It looked even more comfortable than the bed she had in her dormitory and her bed at home.

Home. What had happened to her home? Her family? Her cat?

All these things she refused to think about the past few months. Things she had forgotten in that year after the war when she was locked in a cell. Disoriented and alone.

And especially this month of training and constant tiring fighting. But now she has. . . succeeded? — she's beginning to think about it more.