Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

36

This chapter contains mentions of drugs. Please read with caution.

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Isla walked with hesitant steps behind Theodore. Nearly stumbling through the darkened hallways and the uneven bricks underneath her feet.

She didn't have a thought to where he was taking her, but she felt a familiar feeling as they strolled across a corridor leading to the basement. The air cooled as they stepped down the spiral stairs.

''Care to tell me where you're taking me—'' Isla sought to speak, but he was quick to hew her off, aiming to turn around, and he pushed a finger up to his own lips.

Shaking his head at the confused girl, he grinned, ''There's a thing called patience, Clarke. Ever heard of it?''

Frowning puzzlingly, she narrowed her eyes in his, ''Yes, I have, but I'd say it doesn't apply to this situation, Theo. We're in the basement, in the middle of the night. How could I not ask where we are going?''

Theodore smirked, playfully at her as the amused look glued to his features, ''Clarke,'' He shook his head, the charming curls falling across his forehead, ''Sometimes you need to let go of that mile-high guard of yours and just be — just be a little. It doesn't hurt to loosen up a bit, I promise.''

Feeling the tension within herself as it eased, she tipped her head, her hair spilling wildly around her, ''I know I should, but it's a little hard when you're leading me down to the basement at night, Theo,'' Crossing her arms, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, ''What if you took me down here to get rid of me?''

''Get rid of you?'' He was inching closer now, allowing his hand to linger on her jaw, ''If I wished to get rid of you — you'd already be gone, Clarke. So don't flatter yourself now.''

No matter how much she tried to stand against it, not to let the feverish color sweep across her cheeks, she couldn't. The way his eyes glistened in the gloom along with that damned smirk playing on his lips — Isla was hooked.

''Flatter myself?'' She pouted, yanking her head, and his hand dropped, ''Today is not the day to mock me, Theo.'' She was beaten after her conversation with Malfoy — that once again ceased in complete chaos.

His jaw gritted, the visible muscle in them ticked the very second he caught her words, and he felt bad.

He didn't wish for her to believe that he took her somewhere to mock her or make fun out of her. Theodore didn't mean to do any of that. He simply craved to make the fragile girl feel better.

''I know,'' He muttered, huffing out a bothered sigh, trying to be sympathetic, ''I know it's not, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you.''

''I know you didn't,'' Her forced smile caused him to scowl, but she didn't bother, tipping her head to the end of the corridor, she gestured for him to walk again, ''Well, if you are getting rid of me, I'd like—''

''Oh, shut it,'' Theodore bit his lip, shifting around in his shoes, and he snatched her wrist, tugging her with him as he sauntered.

''You know, some people are funny, and it's their nature and all that, but you—'' He tried not to look at her as she walked next to him, afraid that he'd burst out in laugher, ''You need to stop with those jokes, Clarke, for your own sake.''

Her lips parted, her chin dropped as she peered up at him from below, her shoulder nudging his arm, and she shoved him to the side, ''What is that supposed to mean?'' Sounding offended, knitting her brows, ''I am funny, Theodore. I am funny, thank you very much.''