I'm not speaking to Pansy Parkinson.
No, really. She's been my friend for seven years and since the night she talked shit, alluding to my blood status as a flaw to my character, I haven't said a word to her.
Not directly, anyway.
You'd think that since we are both ignoring each other, one of us would be silent or brooding whenever we are forced together by our four other mutual friends. But instead we are passive aggressive.
We make snide insults about each other to the rest of our friends, usually right in front of each other's faces.
Pansy was my best friend. She's never outwardly shown any dislike for me, besides some gentle bullying first year before the rest of the Slytherins decided I was cool, and now that I'm sure she loathes me, I'm second guessing every single compliment or word of praise she's ever given me as back handed.
Like, when I wanted to wear a green dress to the Yule Ball, did she say I should wear black instead because she was being nice, or was it because she didn't want me wearing Slytherin colors? And when her and Onyx went on vacation to Paris last summer, was I not invited along because her parents wouldn't allow it or because she simply didn't want me there? And when she said my Halloween costume was 'fitting' was that an insult? Because I was dressed as the devil?
Even now, on the Thursday after the Quidditch match, it all still stings.
But Thursday nights have a silver lining.
At least, this one does.
Blaise, Malfoy, Onyx, and I are serving detention. And Filch breaks us into the same pairs as last time.
I'm walking down the corridor with Malfoy by my side, smirking to myself, just hoping and praying that we'll have another stroke of luck and end up alone together, as with Slughorn last time.
But Malfoy makes his own luck. He suddenly grabs my waist and backs me up into a wall.
"Mal-Draco," I stutter, trying to get used to saying his first name. Because I know he likes it.
"Bla-Evangeline," Draco mocks me, matching my tone.
"Snape's waiting. . ." I trail off, sighing. He's trailing hurried kisses down my throat, holding on tightly to the back of my neck.
"Well I have a date with the devil, and Snape's not invited," Malfoy whispers on my neck, his fingertips trailing up my thigh. I scowl at his words, but I end up sighing as he pulls my leg up, hiking it around his own waist. He presses his hips into mine, sloppily kissing my up my jawline.
"We. . . can't. . ."
"But you want to?" Malfoy asks heatedly, kissing every exposed surface of my throat, "If I could take you, right now, would you let me?"
"I don't know, I still kinda hate you."
"Kinda?" Malfoy asks, chuckling. I look over his shoulder at the corridor beyond. It's empty, but Snape's office is in sight. "There's been some progress, then."
"Miniscule progress," I retort, but I lace my fingers in his hair and let my eyes roll back.
"I know patience is a virtue and everything," Malfoy pants, gripping my hips with both hands. "But I don't think I possess it."
"I could not agree more," I say, and I straighten up, leaning away from his hungry lips.
"Let me have you," Malfoy murmurs, and he reaches up and places a bent finger under my chin, tilting my face up so that he can gaze directly into my eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Fuckboy {Draco Malfoy 18+}
Fanfiction"You want to know what I taste like?" I say, leaving my mouth slightly open. I can feel Malfoy's breath on my lips. He doesn't answer, but his breath hitches as he looks down. "You really want to know?" "Just do it," Malfoy barks. "So I can have som...
