entanglements | d.m.

24.preparations

November '98 | H E R

"And he came bounding for me and demanded I don't look at anything I don't plan on touching," Tarq gives her a report of what Malfoy did after she left him in the dark. "And if I do plan, I can pronounce myself dead already."

Devyn shakes her head in the mirror, both at the dress and Malfoy. "He is stepping out of line."

Although—and Devyn would never admit it outloud—having Malfoy reach out and threat in her favor is making her feel some type of way between her legs.

It's washed out quickly by the usual sadness of revisiting the moment he chose a life without her.

It's physical for him, a nasty voice screeches in her head.

"I swear he was so close to my face, I thought he was going to kiss me."

Devyn laughs as she gets off the riser like a penguin thanks to the mermaid style dress she squeezed herself into. Suddenly, she has become a passionate advocate for free leg movement.

"I'm serious," Tarq insists, pulling the zipper down her back while she holds onto the front. "The tension between us... maybe I'm interpreting it wrong the whole time."

"Yes, he's had a major crush on you all this time," she humors him. "That's why he's waiting for you to turn your back so he can push you off the nearest cliff."

"We're not taking this abomination, I hope." His nose scrunches as he looks down mustard yellow gown.

Spindle, the shopkeeper of Gladrags Wizardwear insisted Devyn will take one of his creations once he learned that she doesn't have one yet. In five days, the Dance is being hosted, and while everyone and their uncle is set for the occasion for weeks now, too many things got in the way for Devyn to take the time and acquire one.

Thankfully, the old man granted Devyn and Tarq some extra time after closing to look through his assortment.

But with her not being as excited as the rest of the student body, Devyn hasn't made up her mind about how she wants to look in the slightest. She thought of herself as the not-picky-kind, but this being the fourth dress she is stepping out of, maybe she cares more than she thought.

"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. It looked pretty on the mannequin."

With a flick of his wand, Tarq sends the dress back onto said mannequin while Devyn's eyes stay glued to her reflexion in the mirror, clad in only her knicker and the bra Malfoy saw earlier.

"He saw it."

Tarq's brows bunch together as he meets her eyes in the mirror. "Saw what?"

"This," she gestures down at her right side.

Tarquin, being practically her other half, doesn't just know about the scar but helped remedy it. Until it got refreshed every time. Amycus had a goal in mind and that was forever dooming her with said scar. Sadly, he had enough brains to keep that in mind whenever Devyn got herself into trouble.

He played torture for the long run, but unlucky for him, Devyn went through enough emotional torment to care about some of her skin looking like she fell into a bees nest. She hasn't had the time to catch up and be bothered by it. Yet.

Keeping it covered helps. Out of mind, out of sight.

"Today, you mean? And what did he say?" he asks carefully. There is no doubt he would rip Malfoy's throat out if he said the wrong thing.

To be honest, Devyn imagined how he would react almost everytime she looked in the mirror and saw the scar, because she has nearly every scenario played out in her head. Even things that would never in a million years happen.