Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Twenty Two

Furrowing his brows, Tom went over all of Malfoy's relatives in his head, but he couldn't recall anyone by the name of Draco. "Who?" She waved him off dismissively, "oh you wouldn't know him, he hasn't been born yet."

Was she pulling his leg? He bit his cheek for a moment, "... what?"

There was a brief pause before Delilah's face contorted into one of amusement, a burst of laughter left her lips. "Look at your face! Never mind, you wouldn't understand."

"Delilah-"

"I like it when you call me that," utter nonsense was spewing out of her mouth without her consent. Alcohol was never her friend, which is usually why she steered away from it. Tom placed his elbow on back of the couch and rested his chin in his palm, looking down at her.

"You like it when I call you by your name?"

She nodded and fumbled with her nightie, "what were you gonna ask?" Delilah could feel her cheeks burning up, she felt like an idiotic schoolgirl.

Peppermint and petrichor swirled around him, mixing with the smell of whisky, making him feel like he was in an odd state of limbo. "Why won't you be able to come back when you go home?"

A long breath passed her lips and she sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. Tom and Delilah were practically pressed next to each other. He felt a weight drop around them, her royal blue eyes growing more dark like a night sky.

"Can I have a cigarette?" Her question slightly took him off guard, but nonetheless he dug into his pocket for a moment before drawing out the silver cigarette box. Delilah smiled slightly at the sight of it, seeing as she gave it to him. She half expected for Tom to just throw it in a cupboard somewhere.

Handing it to her, she placed it between her lips but didn't light it.

"I need to get back."

"Why?"

"They all think I'm dead."

There was a brief pause as Tom trailed his fingers lightly over the engravings on the box, his brain quickly registering what she said. "Why? And why would that mean you never came back?"

Delilah rolled her eyes, "imagine if you thought I was dead?" She then lightly punched him on the shoulder with a broad smile on her lips. "Admit it, your life would be sufferably boring without me."

That may be, but his life would get a hell of a lot easier. Though, did he want an easier life? One without Delilah in it did seem incredibly dull. Tom thought back to her initial question, what would he do if Delilah was killed?

At that thought he furrowed his brow and she waved her empty glass at him, but he shook his head, "that's probably not best." Huffing, she grabbed the bottle herself, pouring a bit too much.

She took a long sip before resting her head on his shoulder. Tom stiffened but didn't move. His body became a block of ice, yet he felt on fire all at once.

Handing him back his cigarette, he placed it between his own lips and snapped his fingers, heating her face up for a moment. Turning her head slightly so she could rest her cheek on his shoulder, Delilah watched as smoke poured out of his mouth.

"You're a very curious person." She mumbled, her warm breath fanned his neck.

"You're like a coin," she giggled and he turned his head to look at her, the smoke heating up her face. "Meaning?"

"You're two faced." She then gasped and hit his chest. "You're like Harvey Dent! Oh it's perfect. You're just like him! One side of you is pretty okay, that side of you doesn't bother me that much. But the other half of you is all over the place. Mental. And wants me dead."