Of Doves and Dragons

Chapter Thirty-four: In the Eye of the Storm

The cigarettes were the perfect distraction for those lingering doubts still on the edge of Draco's mind. He knew that it wasn't particularly the best vice to jump to, but it was better than the alcohol. It calmed his nerves and still allowed him to keep his wits about him without driving him to steal liquor. There was just the small problem of acquiring them.

Draco had wanted to use the imperious curse on the old man who owned the convenience shop down from their inn, but Ember forbade it. It was an unforgivable curse after all and who knew if they might still be traced; not to mention the fact that it was morally wrong. But neither of them were old enough to actually purchase the tobacco. Between the two of them, they settled on a little misdirection and slight-of-hand magic, that allowed them to swipe a whole carton from a bigger market when they took a trip to Montreal to visit some of its' museums. Things were certainly more difficult with them not being citizens, not having proper documentation, and still being teenagers to boot (even though Draco was technically an adult), but both were clever enough to get around the restrictions.

By the time Christmas rolled around, both of them could admit to themselves that the decision to leave everything behind had been without a doubt the right one. Even amidst the family oriented holiday, they didn't allow themselves to be dragged into a game of what ifs. Instead they made conscious efforts to create traditions of their own.

When Ember came home with a three foot tree and a hopeful smile, Draco just shook his head and asked which corner of the room she wanted to display it. They spent the night haphazardly decorating it with cheap decorations and a little too much tinsel. The next day she came home from work to Draco casually biting off the head of a gingerbread man; one of the many he purchased from the bakery down the road. Two days before Christmas Eve, Ember begged for a haircut.

"I've never done it before!" Draco protested, entirely uncomfortable with the idea of being responsible for cutting her hair.

"You've seen it done!" She argued pleadingly, "It can't be that hard of a spell."

His lips formed a thin line as he ran his hands through her admittedly long hair. She grabbed his wrist affectionately, squeezing reassuringly. "I trust you."

"I wouldn't." He mumbled unconvinced. She was so lovely and he didn't want to be the reason to take an ounce of her beauty no matter what the context.

She sighed. The sigh she usually used when she was resigned that he wouldn't budge. "Fine." He drew out the word in faux exasperation. It was only hair, it would grow back.

She skipped into the bathroom, the only room in their residency that had a mirror, and waited patiently for him to follow. He had to avidly not overdramatically drag his feet.

Mirrors had not been his friend. The sight of his face made his skin crawl. It was something he couldn't push past. His eyes were those of his fathers, his nose his mothers, and no matter what he did, or what Ember said; he could only see a monster. He wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't recognize himself or if it was because he could. He avoided his reflection as much as he could.

He pulled his wand out, and brought her hair gently so it laid long against her back; testing the wright in his palms. His eyes flicked up to see her watching him in the mirrored reflection. She gave him a patient grin as he continued to shift his hands through her brown locks.

"How short do you want it?" He murmured.

A shiver ran down her spine as his breath brushed the shell of her ear. The air ignited with something almost tangible that she couldn't quite place. It made her stomach twist in knots, a warmth spread through her, her heart sprinting.