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The next morning, Devon woke up before the sun rose above the earth. She had realized this fairly quick, deciding to hurriedly throw on black dress pants and and a nice shirt. Her hair was thrown into a high ponytail, before she slid her feet into some comfortable, quiet heels.
She opened the wooden door with a hushed creak. Devon looked outside of the bedroom, checking to see if anyone was around her.
Once she found the coast was clear, she made a beeline to the kitchen.
Upon entry, she found busy elves preparing breakfasts for their masters. Devon only had to do little searching to find hers.
"Daph," Devon called to the elf who ran around, helping the others.
"Mademoiselle Anastasie ! Bonjour. Puis-je vous offrir quelque chose?" Daphne, the LaBlanc elf, rushed out as she approached the bar top counter Devon sat herself at.
Translation: Miss Anastasia! Good morning. Can I get you anything?
"Daph, tu sais ce que je ressens pour ce nom," Devon scolded the elf lightly.
Translation: Daph, you know how I feel about that name.
"Désolé, Mlle Devon."
Translation: Sorry, Miss Devon.
"C'est bon. Puis-je prendre un café ? Pas de crème, sucre supplémentaire."
Translation: That's alright. May I get a coffee? No cream, extra sugar.
Devon didn't have to wait more than a second before a coffee cup was placed on the marble countertop in front of her. "Merci," she thanked, before letting the elf get back to work.
Devon sat there on the barstool for several minutes, drinking her morning coffee in peace.
That was, until the kitchen door opened. Devon stiffened her back, wiping her top lip for any coffee residue.
When she was ready, Devon turned in her chair to see who her intruder was.
Draco stood sheepishly by the open door, seemingly paused in his slow waddle to the kitchens.
"I didn't know someone would be in here. Especially this early in the morning," Draco hummed. He continued into the kitchens, an elf knowingly bringing a cup full of coffee to the counter.
Draco pulled the chair one down from Devon, out for himself. He sat down, taking a slow sip of the hot beverage.
"Couldn't sleep." Devon mentally palmed herself in the face for the lame answer.
Draco nodded into his cup. He placed it down softly, turning to the witch on his left.
"Do you come in here often?" Were the next words out of her mouth. "Well, of course you do, it's your house. Sorry about that," Devon excused herself.
Draco chuckled. "That's all right. I do, yes. Usually before anyone else is in here. That quick moment of peace before dealing with-" Draco cuts himself off. "But, anyway, this is the first time I've had someone in here the same time as me."
"Well, there weren't always people living in your house," Devon added lightly. Draco nodded somberly. The mention of the topic had brought down his mood. "Sorry... again."
"No, it's fine. Really. Just something my family is still trying to adapt to."
"How old are you?" Devon questioned, her curiosity taking over verbally.
Draco chuckled again. "Seventeen. Just turned, matter of fact. My birthday was in this past June. And you?" His eyes turned almost hopeful.
"Eighteen, almost nineteen. My birthday is in October," Devon answered.
"You mentioned a brother yesterday afternoon. Where is he, if I may ask?" Draco continued to question, moving away from the topic.
"His name is Adrien. He is somewhere in the country. He has this group that he goes around with. I don't approve, and neither would my mother."
"And are they still in France? You said it was just you and your brother that moved to England." Draco leant forward on the counter, intrigued, but trying not to push in the wrong places.
"You would be right. You see, Draco, my parents died when I was fifteen. That's why Adrien and I moved here— to get a fresh start. We were dragged into this whole war mess almost as soon as we crossed the border. My brother tried to get away, so he found a group of witches and wizards to consider friends, and got out. I stayed in the apartment we had rented for a while. That is, until I was called here by the Lord himself, and was forced to move out and come here." Devon explained, voice getting quieter near the end of her story.
"I've lived here my whole life. This one mansion. You know, it's weird, having all this company. I'm used to being the only one. I'd roam the halls and see no one for hours," Draco exasperated.
"Your parents seem nice," Devon tried.
Draco gave her a deadpanned look. "Sure, if you live in the military. My father has always been about order. He wanted me to take his role in the Ministry, when I grew older. That was before he was stripped from his title, of course."
Devon listened intently to every word he spoke. Draco had no idea why he was telling the French girl all of this information about himself. He'd never really been open with... anyone.
"My mother, on the hand. Well, she's always been there for me. I figure she's struggling the most with all of this company. Couldn't tell you for sure though. We kind of lost that connection when I was assigned my first task by the Dark Lord."
"And I assume you have no siblings. I haven't seen any white-haired children running around here." To add on to her own sarcasm, Devon looks around her for any children. But it was just the elves hard at work, and Draco.
"Har har," Draco laughed sarcastically. "My hair isn't that white."
Devon raised her eyes to say otherwise. "I mean, honestly. Is it bleached?" She joked, reaching a fake hand out to touch the seemingly soft locks.
Draco ducked out of her reach, rolling his eyes. "Like you can talk! Is it the same with your brother?" Draco prodded, gesturing to her hair that was tied with a band.
"No, actually. I'm the odd one out in the family. Unlike your family, where everyone has identical hair, the rest of my family are blondes." Devon ran a hand along her ponytail absentmindedly.
The windows to the kitchen shimmered as the sun had finally started making its way into the sky.
"What are your plans for the day?" Draco inquired, starting to stand from his stool.
Devon mirrored his actions, keeping her body turned towards his. "Same as the past week. Go to any meetings that need attending to, hangout in the library for however long, then go to bed."
"Mind if I join you in the library?" Draco tilted his head slightly to the side.
"I mean, it is your home. You're obligated to go wherever you want in your own home," Devon brushed off. She left her cup on the counter, turning her back to the boy behind her.
He followed, of course.
Footsteps traveled behind her, picking up pace slightly to reside next to her. "So?"
"So....?" Devon dragged on.
"I can come?"
"If you please." Devon smirked to herself.
Draco peered down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time. "It's 6:34. How about we stay in the library until 10:00, then I take you on a little tour around the mansion?" Draco suggested, turning to look at the girl who kept on ahead.
The two were passed by a Death Eater, who nodded his greetings.
"Sounds like a date." Devon had realized her mistake too late. "Not what I-"
"A date, you say? Don't you think it's a bit too early? I mean, we only officially met yesterday." Draco teased the girl, giving her a playful side eye as he kept his head forward.
"You know that's not what I meant," she rebuttals. "You know it."
"Oh, do I? Am I just to assume everything you are meaning to say now? So be it," Draco shrugged, holding back his laughter. He was having a grand time teasing the girl.
"Draco," she warned lightly.
He bit back his smile, only letting a small smirk escape. "Yes ma'am?"
"Shut up."
"As you wish."
—•—
Author's Note: I don't know. I'm just throwing them together. But aren't they sweet?
- J.S.