I wasn't sure when I fell asleep, but the room is bright from the light through the blinds. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes, turning my body to look at the spot where Draco ought to be. He isn't there, not that I expected anything different.

Instead, he's sitting at the desk, hunched over and reading a book. I shuffle to the edge of the bed and sit on it. He turns around to see me, putting the book on his desk and closing it.

"You're up late," he points out.

I massage my temple. There is a familiar ache in me. It does not bring me comfort.

"What time is it?" I ask, blinking and looking around the room for a clock.

I spot it just as he speaks, "half past nine."

"You consider that late?" I shake my head.

My shift starts in the early afternoon, so I'll have time to get home, shower, and probably deal with my flatmates' anger at ditching them. At least I'll be able to escape to the inn for a few hours of peace. I don't know if Graham is working. I don't know if I want him to be there.

I stand up, unsure what to do now. He must be more used to this than I am. At least, more used to the aftermath of a hook-up. I wonder if when he has a one-night stand, does he sleep in the same bed as the girl? Does he leave before she wakes? Does he kick her out before she begins to doze off?

No, he doesn't. At least, maybe he doesn't have casual sex. He panics. We couldn't even have sex last night either.

He gets up, moving to the closet for me. I walk over to the desk, looking at the book he was reading. The bright cover reveals what it is before I can make out the title.

"You far into that?" I ask.

"Rereading," he looks at the book just after I do. "Finished it yesterday."

"That good?" I ask with a smile on my face that could be mistaken for a smirk.

"Well, I rushed the ending," he says. "I figured you'd want to discuss it yesterday."

I'm hardly through the first third of The Great Gatsby. Maybe I'm a slow reader, but I can't imagine finishing a novel in eight days. Maybe it's because I didn't rush through parts as he did. Maybe it's because he has no job, doing God knows what rich people do with their time. Regardless, I had better finish the first book soon, so I have something to talk to him about.

He turns back to the closet, before pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and tossing them at me.

"They'll be big, but put them on," he gestures for me to go into the bathroom once more. "I'll walk you home."

I do as he says. I have to pull their drawstring even tighter than I did his pajama bottoms. Once I have everything on, and I've combed my fingers through my hair to make it look somewhat presentable, I walk out. He has my dress in a bag, ready for me. I am forced to put on those strappy heels that I wore to the bar. With this mismatch of men's clothes and club shoes, I must look ridiculous. He doesn't say anything. It's kind of unfair. He's dressed in clothes that look like they match, though once again they are all black.

We begin the walk back to mine. It's closer than I had expected, only about 20 minutes away. We're far enough from the river that there are many people on the streets that we pass.

"When can we reschedule?" he asks.

"Last night?" I feel bad that we were supposed to do something and did something else, although he is the one that cancelled.

He nods.

I shrug, trying to think of the events of the next few days. Halloween party on Sunday with the flatmates, and we already had a no boys policy which Amanda proposed, and I accepted, much to Ali's gripes and groans. Then, I booked Monday morning off so I could recuperate, but that means I'm working Monday night.

"Tuesday," I offer.

Once more, his head tilts forward, a nod, "alright."

"Can't get enough of me?" I ask, a smile on my lips.

"Unfortunately not," he is seething, perhaps joking but perhaps serious.

It's fine. I cannot get enough of him either and I hate it.

"Last night-"

"I'd rather not talk about it," he cuts me off.

I let myself fall into silence. After a minute, we make some small talk on the way back, about the weather. He insists that Inverness is far too cold this time of year than it ought to be. As if somehow, I am to blame not just for last night, but for the weather as well. He tells me that instead of complaining I should buy a thicker coat, a hat, a scarf, or something. Maybe he's right. I can't control the weather, but I can control how prepared I come for it. He is willing to admit, though, that the town has some charm.

He's right, I suppose.

At my flat, he leaves me at the door. Another plan to see me soon leaves his lips, no goodbye. I guess that I've never said goodbye to him either. How strange.

Once I'm up in my flat, Niamh is trying her best to study, with her headphones sprouting from her new MP3 player. Her pencil taps the table as she thinks. The sound is loud.

Amanda and Ali must have woken up recently because Ali is sitting at the table halfway through her breakfast, and Amanda is next to her, trying her best to swallow the oatmeal in her bowl. Amanda has huge bags under her eyes. Ali's granola is crunching loudly.

They look startled to see me. Niamh even looks up.

"Hello," I manage.

Ali practically squeals, "so, was it good? Was I right, about the girth?"

"Ali," Amanda snaps.

"What, come on," Ali puts down the bowl. It clangs and almost in response, Niamh's tapping gets louder. "You've got to tell me everything. I mean, I don't understand why you would put up with his personality if he didn't have a magnum-"

"We didn't sleep together," I tell her.

Ali sputters out a laugh, "you are wearing his clothes, Jane!"

"Yeah," I know. "I got drunk. He didn't want to leave me in case I choked on my own vomit in my sleep, so he brought me round his."

Ali looks at Amanda, and even at Niamh who is focused back on her work. Amanda only offers a shrug.

"What, do you think this is normal?" Ali asks, looking at Amanda. "He's weird! He didn't say a word all night, and he had at least six drinks and we were only there for an hour. Like, sure he's mysterious, but intrigue can only get so far if there is nothing interesting behind it."

"Oh, as if you sleep with men who are interesting," Amanda's voice is sharp until she turns to me. "He is a bit weird though. Graham even said so."

"Graham likes everybody!" Ali agrees. "Don't you find it strange that he showed up to a house party not knowing anyone?"

"Let her be," Niamh finally says, ripping her headphones off her ears. She takes in a deep breath, before slamming her textbook shut. "At least she hangs out alone with him. Outside of sleeping with a man, when was the last time either of you hung out with one while the other wasn't around."

I'm more shocked that Niamh spoke than by what she said. She's right. Unless one of them is hot and heavy with some guy from their uni, they don't really operate independently. Amanda is well-liked, and Ali is popular, but they eat all their meals together and study together and do anything and everything attached at the hip.

It's part of the reason I feel so left behind by them.

"Well," Ali speaks like she is expecting words to follow.

Amanda shrugs once more, "Niamh has a point."

Ali groans. She gets up and dumps the rest of her granola down the sink, and begins to wash her dishes.

"Thanks, I guess," I don't know what else to say to Niamh.

"Don't mention it," she says, and I know she means it literally. Then, she pauses. "You just... you look happy today. Brighter, almost."

Amanda nods in agreement, though adds nothing else. Ali has her back to me, with her hands in the sink. I raise my hand to my neck, feeling the ghost of his touch lingering on the skin.

I put my stuff down in the bedroom and commit to reading some of The Great Gatsby. It takes two hours, but I get just past the halfway mark. I'm going to commit to finishing it by Tuesday. I want to have something to talk to him about.

After a few hours, I make lunch. Only Niamh is in the kitchen, as she probably got up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast. It's her daily routine, regardless of the weekend. She doesn't pay me much mind. While my stomach is unsettled, I still force myself to eat.

Then I go to take a shower. While I try to look away from the mirror, I do catch a glance of my hair moving in the mirror. It is out of the corner of my eye, and at first, I mistake it for something moving behind me, and I can't help but look. Then, I see myself.

It's almost startling. I'm pale, but there is a flush on my hollow cheeks. My eyes are green and lighter than I remembered them to be, and my lips more swollen. Have I always been this bony? As much as the appearance is strange to me, what is stranger is that I do not flinch.

~~~~~

I figured that I would add something a little tasty to this chapter. Just a little interesting. The mystery is going to begin unfolding. Honestly, I can't get over what is coming. It's so exciting! Let me know if you enjoy it!