Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

15

Mature content ahead.

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''Draco—'' Isla brushed her skirt back down, trying to seem less flustered than she actually was, ''What are you doing here?''

Theodore backed away awkwardly as both of his hands combed through his hair, easing the messy curls, ''Mate, not a good time,'' He sighed, sending Draco an annoyed glare.

Malfoy's jaws gritted, his teeth clasping together out of what he'd just witnessed. He failed to speak a word and his eyes bored through Isla's.

Her breath stressed, and her pulse quickened out of the embarrassment as Theo cocked his head, ''Malfoy?'' He snapped, ''What do you want—''

''Professor McGonagall wished for me to get you, Nott,'' He spat out, missing the attempt to downplay his anger, ''She needs help with cleaning up the mess in her classroom.''

Theo's eyes rolled, inhaling deeply as the color in his hues darkened, ''And you couldn't help her with that?'' His voice increased, ''Are you so full of yourself that you actually walked all the way down here to—''

''Do as she says, Nott,'' Draco seethed, crossing his arms over his chest as he threw a nod over his shoulder, signaling for the brunet to leave, ''When a teacher asks for help, you do as told, didn't your mom teach you some manners?''

Theodore scoffed provokingly at the blond, ''You're the one to talk, Malfoy, aren't you?'' He took slow strides up to Draco, halting inches away, ''But if you don't mind, I'm busy—''

''It's alright,'' Isla jumped off the counter she was seated on, her fingers quick and nervously dragged through the ends of her hair, ''I can fix this by myself, just go to Professor McGonagall and I'll—''

''Do as the ladies say, Nott.'' Draco's grey eyes narrowed at his green ones, ''Be a good boy and listen to Clarke.''

Isla gulped, turning away from them as she grasped for some paper towels to clean the layered mess on her chin off.

''Fucking hell,'' Theodore growled, shouldering his way past Draco as Isla caught hurried, severe steps echoing down the corridor.

Her shoulders sunk slightly, eased by the fading hostile tension until she felt his stare burning into her back again, and she turned around, ''What are you—''

''Don't think I didn't see that, Clarke,'' Draco's hues shifted darkly, his tone accusing and filled with disgust, ''Don't think I didn't fucking see how desperate you were for him to touch you.''

Isla blinked rapidly as she stumbled on her words, ''I didn't—''

''Of course, you didn't,'' Draco chuckled, slowly striding forward, ''Just like you didn't beg me to touch you in the hallway the other night, right?''

She swallowed, thickly as she backed away for every step he took towards her, ''I don't have to explain myself to you—''

Her lower back collided with a table, peering over her shoulder to see all the cakes and pastries resting on it before her sight snapped to his again.

''I didn't ask you to explain yourself,'' His voice shredded lowly, intimidating almost, ''I don't remember asking you any questions at all.''

''Then why are you—'' Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter as soon as his body closed in on hers. His breaths fanned her skin, and his freezing hands settled next to hers, ''Why are you doing this, Draco? I have things—''

''My fucking name, Clarke,'' He hissed, jaws sharp, ''I have told you not to use my fucking name.'' He was enchanting every word now, tired of her lack of understanding.