Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Fifty-Two: Runaways

We didn't rush.

Not straight away, at least. All we did was remain frozen in our hiding place with his arms wrapped tightly around me. It was as though the gravity of the situation was delaying in sinking in, and neither of us made any attempt to pull away.

I was the first to break the silence, after what felt like a painfully long stretch of time. Wasted time, it was.

". . . Well, fuck." I whispered.

Draco huffed a dry laugh in my ear.

"Yeah. . . fuck."

More silence.

I was growing restless to fill it.

So I spoke again, coming out with the first thing that sprung to mind:

". . . You smell really nice by the way,"

"Lockwood, what the fuck?" Draco started in my ear. I elbowed him in the chest so that he dropped his arms from around me, then I spun around.

"I was just complimenting you!" I raised my eyebrows. "There's no need to snap."

He stared at me like I was crazy, features scrunching together. "But --" A defeated sigh was let out, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve tension.

The faintest, saddest smirk ghosted over his lips. "You are so bloody strange, you know that? Were you not just listening to the things my father was saying? We're--"

"--Dead, yes I know." I stared at him flatly. "But I'm choosing not to panic."

"That's a first." Guilt flashed in his eyes when he saw my hurt reaction. "I mean-- you should be panicking."

"Well. . . I'm not," I shrugged. This earned me another scornfull look, so I quickly rushed on.

"I'm not panicking because I don't see the point. If i'm to die tonight, then I refuse to spend my last precious moments on this planet crying about it. And thinking rationally here, we're all going to die anyway, right? So. . . what's the big deal."

I was masking my complete and growing terror with a careless act, and Draco could see right through it. He narrowed his eyes, searching mine intently.

"You're right: you will die. But not tonight." He spoke curtly. "You'll die in about eighty years from now, in a hospital bed or something, surrounded by people who love you. But you are not going to die in my house, at the hands of my dickhead of a father, on Christmas eve, at only eighteen years old."

He raised his brows as he said this, as though daring me to argue back.

And for once, I didn't. It required strength which I'd used up already this evening.

"I think we both know it'd be stupid to stay standing here a second longer, so--" He pushed off from the wall, brushing past my shoulder as he started walking down the hallway, fixing the cuffs to his shirt.

When I didn't make any effort to follow, he stopped, turning around to shoot me a dissaproving glance.

"Come on. We're going back to Hogwarts, and we'll figure the rest out from there." He jerked his head, motioning for me to follow. The gleam of moonlight which had painted a line across the hallway illuminated him like a spotlight. Made the snow coloured strands of his hair gleam and caused his eyes to glitter even from a distance.

I remained frozen to the spot, playing with a strand of my hair -- still dripping wet -- and eyed him, warily.

"I don't see how this is going to work, they're just going to kill me anyway,"