The Devil | D.M 18+

Chapter 6

Dinner was as silent as a mourning chapel.

Evie, not once looked up from her plate; too terrified to look at Draco who'd not touched his either. His eyes fixed on her shrivelled demeanour.

She'd barely swallowed a roasted potato. Felt sick the moment it rolled down her throat despite its deliciousness.

It'd been the most isolating hour where even Narcissa looked sharp and crude. Funnily enough, the only person to settle her nerves was perhaps the most unhinged of all the Death Eaters she met yesterday.

Bellatrix's cheeks were balloons. Stuffed with food so much that dribbles of gravy fell back down her chin and onto her plate. She gobbled three plates and gagged on her wine-filled goblet like it were her last living days.

The tension was so thick by the time the grand clock beside the fireplace rang, Draco dismissed the table. Narcissa left without a word, Bellatrix apparating out of her seat somewhere unknown. Her plate missing too.

Assuming Draco returned to his office, given the fact he was set for Denmark soon, tomorrow, Evie paced toward their bedroom.

Her fingers hadn't stopped trembling. She picked at the dead skin around her nails, hissing when they peeled too far up. Better to apologise now than later.

Hopefully all Draco was needed time to calm down. He seemed less angry about circumstances far greater so surely it'd be alright.

However, the closer Evie neared the room, something twisted in her stomach.

Whatever it was, it didn't feel right.

A buzz of sorts. Almost like a hornets lullaby. Powerful light bulbs that were ready to burst. Snores of a dragon. The eerie singular note of a violin.

She'd just managed to hear it. She popped her ears on command for a clearer indication.

Evie slowed to a dragged pace and held out her hands toward the doorknob. In the small border of where the carpeted floor mats leading to their bedroom, the noise translated into her skin.

Air was shaking. Prickling at the tips of her fingers, biting in small electrical shots. It wasn't enough to hurt her, to reel her hands away like a scolding burn.

That was until her hands touched the doorknob itself.

Skin on metal, the golden doorknob glowed. Glowed so yellow it was a sunset orange, then to a copper red.

A rapid hiss, fire and smoke burnt through Evie's flesh, causing her to yelp back.

Raw and red, the inside of Evie's hand was scorched two layers, at least. Within seconds her skin returned to normal, completely unaffected, though after a second attempt, she earned the same results.

Then she tried her booted foot, but the knob had been changed to a ball, rather than a handle. Real clever, Evie. Lets not mention that one.

With a huff, Evie twisted her heels — found Draco standing a few feet from her.

His hands were dug in his trouser pockets. Dressed similarly to the night before. Smart and handsome, though his face was mean and overbearing.

"You cursed me out of our room?" Evie gritted through her teeth, unbelievable anger hot on her tongue.

Draco didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just stared as he said, "My room, my rules. As I previously stated, Tiskey has arranged a separate room for you. Unless you have also forgotten that."

Her eyes rounded. She didn't think he'd refer to it a second time. "All because I was late to dinner?"

She couldn't help but flinch at the pain in her chest.