—Next chapter coming at 110 votes & 275 comments!
TW; mentions of suicide, character distress

  DRACO TRIED HIS BEST to forget life before the war. —But try as he might, nothing he did would ever cull the memories of what once was. Everywhere he looked he saw her, and he hated it.

In the first months after the war it had driven him wild with rage, he'd gone entirely off the rails, he didn't eat, he didn't speak, he didn't sleep. He became a mere shell of what he once was.

Sometimes in sleep those same feelings still found him, which is why he'd always favoured the district of Lust and their nocturnal way of living. —Somehow his nighttime melancholy seemed banished by the light.
   Grief some called it, others a crippling sadness; a sickness of the mind. —But whatever it was it drove him insane. At its worse he stood atop the ruins of what was once the Astronomy Tower, looking out over the stars.

What had once been his haven had fast become his hell. He had stared out at the scene, one last glance of her before an eternity of peace, —before he held his wand to his head prayed for permanence. But he soon came to find that the curse could not kill the caster...

  • • •

THE GAS STATION BATHROOM was dark and damp, and to Seven, smelled like rotting wood. She stared at herself in the mirror, wide eyed and tired-looking as she pulled out her wand.

She placed the tip to skull and muttered, "Crinus Muto."
At once her hair lightened, shifting hue and changing tone, from its once raven black to a deep, beautiful cherry red colour. Seven found herself living the change far more than she had expected to; running her fingers through to separate a few of the curls.

When she left the bathroom Draco remained impartial for the most part, scarcely looking at her even though he had been the one to enforce a change. The most he did was spare her a single, fleeting glance and mumble, "Better." It made Seven angry; she didn't expect him to bow down before her or begin to pray at her feet, but she expected more, and she felt that he was deliberately trying his best to ignore her, though she wasn't sure why.

• • •

  THEY STOOD BENEATH the towering silhouette of the Siren's Rest, far greater and grander than Seven could have ever imagined, but it made sense, she could hardly have expected any less from a Sin.

  When they entered, Draco went straight to the woman sitting behind an oval desk and said, "Reservation under the name Sadem."

  Seven tried to listen but found herself distracted by the grandeur of the lobby itself. All marble and rich with gold, sweeping ceilings and hanging ivy. Several people milled about the entrance, wearing fur coats and expensive suits, Seven felt rather out of place in her leather amongst such fineries. She made a note to herself to change once they reached their hotel rooms.

  "Come on." She flinched when Draco's hand brushed her's, a spark exchanged between their skins, but if he felt it too he hid it, remaining stoic and serious as they ascended the floors until they reached the thirtieth.

  Room 135; read the door. Seven was surprised to see that they were sharing a room, she had expected they would be staying in neighbouring rooms instead, but it didn't end there, as when Draco opened the door he let out a curse to make a sailor blush.

  —There was only one bed...

  "Shit." Seven found herself following suit into the great glass apartment, "Should we go back and complain?"

  He ran a callused palm down his tired face. "We can't go drawing any more attention to ourselves, besides, this is the only room available next to Gluttony's, if we ask to change we might be move floors away."

  Seven pursed her lips, uncertain on what else to say, "...I don't mind sleeping on the setee..."

  "No." Draco grunted, taking off his jacket and in one fluid motion throwing it over the back of the tan leather couch. Seven couldn't help but watch transfixed, eyes following the movement, clinging to the way his fine muscles shifted and flexed beneath his shirt, "—It's fine."

  "Suit yourself..." She grumbled, more to herself than anyone else as she found her own home on the double bed, enjoying the feel of the silken sheets on her long legs. "...See if I care."

  Amidst the dying light the crude carving of the raidho rune caught Seven's eye. "We still need to try figure out a way to remove the trace before we can really get started on anything else."

  "Give me your arm."

  She did as he said; noting the way his eyes lingered on her scar as he sat down on the bed beside her. For a moment Seven almost thought him soft as he gentle took her arm, a strangeness coming about him as he pressed his wand tip to her forearm and muttered an enchantment. Whatever it was worked, as a second later the rune faded into nothingness.

  "How did you do that?" She looked up at him; frowning.

  A small smile toyed at the corner of his mouth, "Magic."

  She stared at him as if for the first time, allowing herself to truly see him as he was, she'd never given herself the opportunity to look closely, partly because she knew she feared what she may see, —what she may feel.

  He really was beautiful, but not in that classically handsome kind of way, instead he was beautiful in a far more sinful light. The kind that would make angels cry.
  —The kind that came with the rough ruggedness of danger and grief and anarchy. A sort of foreign ferality that Seven found herself drawn to.

  His eyes flickered across across her face, catching in the light like a dagger in the sun, piercing and ready to kill at a seconds notice, crawling from her hair to her eyes, to the curve of her cheek, and eventually settling on her lips.

  They stared there for a long while, and all the while Seven swore she couldn't breathe. Her finger tips ached to reach out and touch him, to run her hands through his ivory hair and feel every aching callus of his palms, but she remained frozen.

  Maybe she'd imagined it, or maybe he'd leaned in a little closer, so that his cool breaths fanned her face, lips lightly parted by the baited breath.

  He looked nothing less than wicked. Not just devilish but the devil incarnate. Seven had heard tales of men like him; sinful in all the best kind of ways, but deadly beyond belief. One kiss and she'd be hopelessly under his spell. For a moment she debated if he had vela blood.

  One kiss, that was all it would take, one taste of heaven and she'd be damned to hell.

  Her gaze lowered to his lips; giddy with anticipation.

  "Seven..." He whispered, her name never sounding so sweet. But then the moment that he said it something she couldn't read flashed behind his eyes, gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and he pulled away, clearing his throat. "I should probably...—,"

  "—Go?" She finished for him and he nodded, standing and smoothing down his shirt before leaving, abandoning her alone inside the apartment.

  She felt numb, not entirely sure how she should feel, or if she should even feel anything at all. He was just like her. Deep down, they were both afraid. They both ran from their problems. She just needed to figure out what exactly he was afraid of.

  • • •

  WHEN DRACO RETURNED to the hotel room hours had passed and the sun had long set. His eyes were instantly drawn to her, they always were. She lay draped across the scarlet armchair, fast asleep, with a small bundle of papers still clutched tightly in her fist.

  He stood there for a far longer than he should have, watching the way her chest rose and fell, the way her thick lashes brushed her cheeks, and the way she looked so peaceful in rest; no longer having to try so hard to hide her fear, it naturally fell away in the night.

  Gently as he could, he picked her up snd carried her to the bed, careful not to wake her as he nestled her under the covers and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Cherry-red curls fell around her face like a halo.

He thought her beautiful, though he knew he shouldn't.

The last thing he did before leaving her to rest was carefully pry the letters from her hands, stained by tears of tears slightly frayed at the edges but otherwise pristine.

Cursive letters peaked from between his fingertips as he tucked them safely away into her bag, casting one final glance towards the words that read;

Meet me tonight.

***
QOTD-What do you think of 7s new hair? -TFOA