The Devil | D.M 18+

Chapter 5

A thousand tiny hammers were hitting the window.

Then came a growl. A shivering whisper that caused the windows to whine.

Evie hummed in response. For her, the rain on the window was a soul's tender touch.

She woke up with a semi-painful headache. Dry mouth worth a hundred deserts and skin clammy — groggy. As though she fell asleep in a typical British swamp.

As she woke up, she noticed a wet towel folded side and left on the silver tray. Behind it, stood a glass, pear-shaped potion bottle with a light sparkling green liquid inside. A small folded piece of parchment pressed against it.

'Drink' it said.

Without question, Evie opened the cap and pressed the bottle to her lips. The moment the soothe of the minty water touched her tongue, the pulse in her head eased.

The strong aftertaste of pistachio lingered on her tongue, and as if some almighty force plundered into her head, information forced through the cracks.

Healers, the voice said. Healing potions were always nut flavoured.

Now finally able to make clear of her whereabouts, she searched the room.

The curtains were closed, but the faintest streak of light peaked through. Not bright enough to determine exactly the time of day. However, the space next to her was free of anyone. Still compressed into a neat fold.

Evie felt at the pillow.

Ice cold.

She twisted her head across the room and found Draco cradled onto the longest sofa of his bedroom. Given his fortunate and unfortunate length, his knees were kissing his chest. Face pressed into an ancient and very much uncomfortable looking pillow.

Slowly, events of the night before came in flashes.

Evie hadn't felt shame worse than before. Not even when the nurses tested her fertility back in the hospital.

Although the memory was blazed, she could still see every inch of Draco's face compress at what she said. It's not like I'm going to die. Calm down.

What. An. Idiot.

How could a few glasses of wine do that much damage anyway? She only had — four glasses was it? Four and a half?

She'd never considered herself to be a lightweight. Had her Slytherin reputation ceased that badly where she could barely stand straight after a beverage?

Thunder roared outside, followed by a flash of white. Though it could've been a roar from a dragon.

Once prepared to stand, Evie crossed the room to Draco, a blanket in hand and draped it over his body. Her hand brushed his shoulder, startling him awake.

A wand tucked beneath her chin quicker than the bolt outside.

Panicked, Evie stared at Draco. Draco stared back. Blinking.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, pulling back his wand. "Instinct," he said, as if it were a form of an apology.

Evie shrugged, interested. "It's alright." There was a sour pause. She continued, "I'm going to have a bath."

Draco sat up and said, "Fine. I'll prepare it for you."

"No. Don't worry. I can manage."

He frowned. "I said I'll do it. Sit down."

With pursed lips, she obliged. Watched him as Draco stood, rolled his shoulders back and groaned at the stretch of his knees before heading off.

She noticed the same whisky glass from yesterday, though the bottle was now empty. A bag of caramels in the shape of golden snitches and empty wrappers sat at the side. Evie wanted to laugh, but the pain inside her head and stomach still hadn't subsided.