𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐃𝐌

THIRTY SIX

ꜱᴘᴏᴛɪꜰʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʙɪᴏ

♱

D A V I N A

By some miracle, I must have fallen asleep because my eyes fluttered open to golden sun rays shining against the wooden floorboards of my dormitory. And last I remembered it was dark and my eyes were glued to the door Ghostface had left. I swear I had been shaking, not from the cold but from the dread, the fear of him showing up again. If he could easily get in, he would do it again. I could only be glad Draco did not awake.

Suddenly, a creek came from the corner of the room and my heart leaped a million miles away. My head whipped to the sound but I relaxed before I could make much of a reaction. Through the sunbeams shining through the window and sheer curtains, Draco sat on the chair in front of my desk. Still shirtless but his trousers were back on, belt loose at his waist. God, he looked like a painting that should be up in a museum, somewhere in Italy.

"I didn't want to wake you," Draco said. I sat up, pulling one leg out from under the blanket and pulling it up to my chest like it was making me feel more at ease, somehow, not from Draco, but because my body was still in fear from last night.

"How long have you been up?" I questioned him curiously. He looked away from me and picked up a loose pen on my desk, fiddling with it.

"Not long," he replied stiffly.

My eyes looked up at the clock above my desk, it was a quarter to eight. We had forty-five minutes until breakfast and one hour and fifteen minutes until classes began.

"I'm surprised you didn't sneak away," I said as my fingers started to pick at each other. Anything to take away the feeling of nerves in my belly. He sat there so careless and gorgeous with his messy white hair, from his hands to his slim yet strong body which was lined with muscle like a God had drawn him with his own hand.

"Why would I do that?" He asked, I turned my head to look at him.

I shrugged, "I don't know." It's what they always do.

"Are you alright?" he asked me.

I sighed and then sat up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. My toes touched the cold wooden floor. I could barely see him through the sun's rays. Like a beautiful glare. Something in my imagination.

"Why do you always ask me that?" I asked, stretching my feet against the floor, and tucking my hands under my legs.

He placed the pen back on my desk, "Because you always look sad."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, "I do not."

"You do," he clarified.

"Well, you always look angry," I told him almost matter-of-factly.

He grinned, looking so unangry-like, and then asked, "What makes you so sad, Davina?"

I stood. Draco's shirt fell to the very tops of my thighs and I knew if I were to raise my arms, even slightly, my red underwear would show. He gulped, his eyes flicking down rapidly like he knew it too. I wasn't really sure what I was doing approaching him with such confidence but my body just led me, and my legs slid over him and straddled his lap instinctively. His hands gripped my waist and hips, welcoming me in a possessive way, and making my pulse fasten.