UNBREAK | D.M (UNRAVEL BOOK 5)

[ 38 ]

Like most days, Aine woke up with an exhausted groan. She stretches her limbs and peered over to her friends, their beds empty and she was certain they had gone on for their breakfast. Rubbing the sleepiness in her eyes, she glanced to her side where Hestia was. There she stood with her wings spread open before closing, "Gosh, murder me, Hestia..." she mumbles, her body swaying like a brittle leaf, and she slumps back into her pillow heavily. She was totally jaded.

Her owl chirped, looking over at her with narrowed eyes, almost disapprovingly. Hestia flew on top of Aine and squawked in the girl's face, waking her up. In the end, Aine gave up and pulled her upper body back to a sitting position. She patted Hestia's soft midnight black feathers which illuminated the sheen from the daylight like the Black Lake. She muttered a small greeting before Hestia flies back to the window after successfully doing her mission in waking the girl.

It was another day. Another day had passed, and another day closer to when all hells break out.

Aine brushed up and slipped on the usual white collared top, grey vest and black skirt, she fastens her Gryffindor tie and wore her polished black leather shoes. Her long wavy hair was tied into a high ponytail and she wraps a thick lock of braid to hide the hair tie around it. Then she headed to the Great Hall where breakfast was served, dragging her feet as she dreads another day to come.

There, Aine's gaze almost immediately scanned the Slytherin table first as soon as she had taken the first step into the majestic hall. She saw her Slytherin friends who gave her warm smiles. Cyrus nodded to her a morning greeting before he was abruptly shoved by his boisterous housemates. He frowns in displeasure at his fellow seniors, Crabbe and Goyle who were shoving a variety of pastries into their mouths, trying to see who could stuff more than the other. Their faces were red and close to exploding before one of them started to choke while attempting to speak and eat at the same time.

Pansy was, as usual, glaring daggers at Aine through her goblet's reflection, making no effort to conceal her disdain for the girl. She angrily stabs her food when Aine rolled her eyes and ignored her. The Slytherin girl hated the fact that she couldn't get on the girl's nerves and she was still aggravated when Aine publicly humiliated her on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of the year. She still had trouble understanding what happened besides the fuzzy sensation in her head, unaware that Aine had controlled her mind.

Blaise was grinning at Aine from the corner, shaking his head at his housemates who were being childish and stupid. He jerked his chin at her and gave a friendly wave, one that Aine returned with a similar grin.

Nonetheless, the person Aine wanted to see most was not there. Her eyes sweep across the hall on all four long tables but Draco was nowhere to be seen. His absence made her worry again, just like before. That's how it was between the two of them, whenever they didn't see each other, they start to think of all the bad things that might happen. 

Had he not woken up yet? Aine thought to herself as she wondered if Draco might have overslept like her. Perhaps he had gone to the Room of Requirement again...

Her mind wanders off as she stares at the spot Draco usually sits at the Slytherin table. There was no hiding that something was clearly bothering him to the point that he wouldn't tell her about it. It wasn't just about the mission or the failure. Ever since they saw the dead bird in the Vanishing Cabinet, she saw it trigger something within the boy. And she knew better than to pry, it looked rather personal to him and she didn't want to invade his mind to find out about it. In time, if Draco wanted her to know, he'll tell her. Until then, she decides to trust him and just be there for him.

Dejected, Aine turns away with slumped shoulders, walking towards her friends at the Gryffindor table. The trio was busy sneaking a peek at Lavender who was glaring daggers at them, digging the handles of her cutleries onto the table as she fumes in silence.