The Minster's Daughter- Draco Malfoy

re-made.

I'm so sorry for the wait, they sent me back to school lmao

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It had been a month since her Father had died. A month since the erratic night at her house. And they still hadn't had sex. Draco was famished, but trying to be respectful. He hadn't tried to come onto her, deciding to leave it to her to come to him when she was ready. He told her he'd use any kind of muggle protection she wanted, just to receive a soft 'okay. thank you'. 

He was desperate for things to be back to the way they were, but he realised that being around her didn't really provide much consistency. He wanted to be that consistent thing she doesn't have to worry about, but sometimes he feels he genuinely can't help lashing out at some of the things she does in fits of emotion now that she isn't on her tablets that she'd been used to dealing with for a year and a half, added to the fact that she's newly an orphan. So when there was a dragon-pox outbreak in Hogwarts in late February, he was surprised to know that she wanted him to stay in her room, with her. 

She wanted him to come in at the night time so there was no chance of him running into someone and catching it the day they were told to stay in dorms. They were told to isolate with dorm mates, so Audrey, Draco, Diggory, Diggory's Ravenclaw bird, Krum and Granger were able to be in the common room together. That brings him to another topic. Krum and Granger were certainly a new development. He just wondered if she was too much of a prude to get some of Bulgaria in her, but he looked as if he wouldn't mind if she wouldn't. The man practically worshipped her, and treat her like his great great great grandfather Septimus would treat a Pureblood in the nineteenth fucking century, bowing while kissing her hand and all. He could see Granger's slight discomfort, and chose to smirk at her when he seen her while collecting whatever Audrey wanted from the things the elves left for them in the commonroom on the first night. 

That was hours ago, and Draco felt bored already. He didn't know why, but knowing the fact that he can't leave this certain part of the castle bored him even more. Normally, he could stay in her room all weekend, just playing games or reading. But knowing that he couldn't leave was taunting. She, of course, was perfectly fine. She'd done this before, she said. There'd been something like this about a year ago in France. Good for her, but he was quickly starting to get sick of counting the tiles in her bathroom, and brought himself back into her bedroom, finding her hunched over her desk working through disgustingly advanced Arithmancy problems that he, nor even Granger could comprehend, solving problems that are Arabic and Hebrew symbols that had been owled to her by Vector. He'd only done Latin and Greek solving, so she tried to teach him earlier, but he stormed into the bathroom in a huff after getting three questions incorrect. But, in there he found something to make it up with. Something he knew she'd... appreciate from him. He thought she'd like it better than a bought apology, so he got to work on it, and slid it in his pocket before he started counting tiles.

"I'm sorry," he muttered from the doorway. If he was going to be with her for four more days, he couldn't start off rocky. She didn't turn, but held up her hand, her quill still writing away in her left, while her right signalled him to be quiet while she focussed. 

Looking at her, he felt tingly feelings in his fingers. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, trace the features on her face, and re-explore the body he'd been missing for so long. She was wearing one of his quidditch vests, paired with muggle cycle shorts. She always seemed to have waring charms on the room to beat the chill, but she'd relaxed them recently to make room for spring. Watching her tongue stick out in concentration gave him a grin, but her exposed, tan legs crossed over each other made him weak at the knees. A frequent pity wank in a bathroom or broom closet would never compare to the real thing, especially if 'the real thing' is Audrey Jane Crouch's wet, tight, pretty, pink, warm vagi-